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Ebola is on the tip of everyone’s tongue right now, especially in Dallas, and it’s driving me insane. I’ve got some friends who are having some pretty major anxiety over it, some who are mildly stressed, and others who just don’t seem to care. Can you guess which category I fall into?

It’s not like Ebola isn’t a terrible thing… It is, and it’s devastating parts of Africa right now. But honestly, most people I know drink out of disposable water bottles and wash their hands obsessively. I don’t even come into regular contact with anyone’s body fluid.

Even if the virus mutates or turns into a pandemic or something, I’m not that stressed. I’ll be one of the first to go, probably right after the very young and very old. (I considered myself lucky to have survived that bad flu season last year).

The real question is, will I be okay with what I left behind? I feel like I yolo pretty well, and I definitely don’t leave anything unsaid. In fact, I should probably keep more things left unsaid. I’m sure my family and close friends would really appreciate that. Dinner conversations can get pretty real.

So if Ebola comes knocking on my door, I’ll make sure to symbolically shake my fist in its face, then sit down and accept my fate. Oh well. I’m just glad I’m not an ER nurse in Dallas right now, because NPR just put an article out saying that “the initial symptoms of Ebola…are the same as other illnesses.” Lucky them.

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