When I was a child, my family played a game called "Don't Tip the Waiter." A cardboard waiter, balanced on a swinging base, held a tray over his head. We took turns piling tiny cardboard food tokens onto the tray. The goal was to add one more without sending the whole thing crashing to the floor. There was a pork chop token, a pie token, and I think a very questionable cardboard fish. Someone always groaned, someone always gloated, and someone always had to crawl under the table to find the pie.

It was great fun until recently when I became the waiter. Now, not so much!

For the past couple of months, life has been handing me tokens. Here's an obligation. Have a little sickness. This circumstance is for you, and here's a second helping of the same one. I have watched that tray pile up and thought, Well, this is it. Somebody call the cleanup crew. Yet here I am, still upright.