Milk It

Throughout the day, the eldest son, just back from France, as opposed to his mother, just back from Gelson's, kept declaring, "I don't have any jet lag." This surprised me, a champion jet lag sufferer. Why suffer just a bit when you can suffer a lot? When given any opportunity to kvetch, I say milk it, baby. Why? I'll tell you why. Because if you don't milk it, someone else will come along with something more kvetch-worthy than jet leg, and your sad little issue will be minimized, and dare I say, overshadowed. Where's the fun in that? In response to his jet lag free declaration, I offered my congratulations. "I thought you'd be a zombie, honey, good for you." But I wasn't about to give up. I wanted to offer him a few more opportunities to milk it. Around 3, I asked again, "How you doing with the jet lag?" "I don't have any jet lag." Around 4, I inquired once more. "How's it going?" "No jet lag." "Wow. You must be superhuman, honey." "Mmmm..." "Huh? "Ummubba..." "What's that?"