And the unnerving similarities just keep cropping up, don't they? Guy's already had to deal with this a few times here. He elects to shove the thought to the posterior of his skull. Let future-him deal with it.

"Yeah, you're really dealing with it great," says Tim, folding his arms across his chest with a meaningful lift of his eyebrows. "Collapsing in the middle of the garden where literally anyone could trip over you and get all infected? Yeah, you're a regular poster boy for dealing with it."

Too much? Too scathing?

Too bad.