Of course just when I'm feeling care-free and sassy because I laughed in the face of West Nile after the Boy's soccer practice and let him--nay, verily ENCOURAGED him--HELPED him, even!--catch tadpoles in the mucky pool that formed at the bottom of the soccer field...
Brain. Eating. Amoebas.
[Obviously, that should be Brain-Eating. Amoebas. There aren't mutant brains running around gobbling up amoebas. But the correct grammar just doesn't properly convey my sense of dread and despair.]
Dear god. Is there no end of things over which I must lie awake at night?