And then She cometh home from the festival of scribbling and Lo but she was stricken.

Stricken with the throat of fire and the head of death. Yea but I have already been strucken, she retorts to the authorities, cans't thou not spare me a second affliction right when I was supposed to be getting on with things? Seriously, you should see my bank account.

The booming response cometh. "But Lo! What is this column on the left? It doth report plenty of enjoyment and not enough rest! THOU MUST REST ON THE SEVENTH DAY, AND IF THOU DOST REFUSE, THOU WILT BECOME STRICKEN WITH THE POX, OR SIMILAR."

But I'm not even religious, She complaineth.

Pox, retorteth the authorities. Throat of fire and head of death. Get thee to a bulk billery.

And so she donneth the tracksuit pants of hideom and she begat the hell out of here to someplace medical.