AT THIS POINT, RIGHT NOW, I HAVE HAD GOUT SINCE THE SECOND DAY OF THE YEAR AND IT HAS GOTTEN INCREASINGLY WORSE. I HAVE SLEPT MAYBE 4.5-HOURS, ON AVERAGE, EACH NIGHT OF 2017. I AM CALLING THIS, HOPEFULLY, FINAL CASE OF THE GOUT: *GOUT CLASSIC* ALA COKE CLASSIC, BECAUSE IT IS CENTRAL TO THE RIGHT BIG TOE, SUCH A CLASSIC SPOT TO HAVE GOUT––OH MY YES, LET ME TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT. BUT I REMAIN SO HOPEFUL FOR ALL WHICH THIS NEW YEAR WILL SURELY BRING, TIED IN RIBBON, SPARKLING. I AM ONWARD TO THE GYM THIS MOMENT, TO CLIMB STAIRS, REACHING THOSE METAPHORICAL HEIGHTS AND SWEATING THE LITERAL SWEAT. I DO SO WITH THE LAST OF MY ENERGY––PLEASE, WISH ME LUCK.


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