A coworker brought in some basil for me today. I’m telling you, the bone closet in the blood bank never smelled sweeter than it did this afternoon. It tickled the noses of everyone who stepped through our door today and confused a whole lot of people.

There is so much basil. I think she cut down a basil tree.

Because there is so much basil, I was compelled by forces outside of my control to stop at the store for tomatoes and fresh squishy mozzarella. I honestly think that in high enough concentrations, basil achieves sentience and mind-control and can coerce its unsuspecting victims to purchase gobs of Italian food products. I stayed strong – I avoided the aisle with the imported balsamic vinegars and extra-virgin cold-pressed olive oils. This time.

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