We are entering “The Handmaid’s Tale” territory with this stylish Cone of Shame and side eye that says You Can Now Die a Slow Death For Doing This to Me. But, the prognosis is good. She’s high as a kite and confused that her head grew a gigantic piece of plastic in a matter of hours, and it keeps catching walls and cabinets and... oh wait. She’s stuck on a stair. The cone is bumping into a stair. She doesn’t understand to lift her head a centimeter. I am not laughing or crying or contemplating my own mortality AT ALL. I AM CRYING. WHATEVER. Two weeks of this. If I die in my sleep you know who is responsible.
