There's no need for anyone to be upset, she would have just liked to point out before the 'discussion' started (hearty airquotes on 'discussion'), but Fern Lynn was not the type to take her own advice on something as simple as 'don't get upset at people for well-intentioned advice'. Fern harbored a distant interest in surgery - didn't everyone? (no, they don't, Fern, everyone and a half had been over this) - but something like this didn't count. This wasn't anywhere near medical knowledge. This was, primarily, her desire to b***h getting the better of her after being thinly disguised as something vaguely medical. "Can you believe her? She just told me to take some Advil and sleep it off, and, like, what if I died in my sleep? Do you know how many people choke on their spit or aspirate vomit or have fatal reactions while they're sleeping, Rebecca are you even listening to me, Rebecca I swear to god - "

(Cut and pan two feet over: this young woman was Rebecca Rose Lynn, Fern's older sister, and the ever-exasperated voice of reason on her foray back-in-state. She had less than zero desire to deal with another episode of Fern freaking out about aches and pains, but as Fern had often opined, what else was the role of a sibling besides a sounding board? It was, again, not a popular opinion. Fern Florence Lynn was not a woman known for her popular opinions, inasmuch as she was a woman at all, which was still a relatively recent development on the chronological side. Ah, coming of age, what a thing. That time of life when a young woman...well, Fern had a pointed vendetta against saying she'd ever 'blossomed' and tended to rope other people into that vendetta alongside her, but the implication was clear. Rebecca, as it happened, merely made a vaguely affirmative sound; this seemed to be enough for Fern.)

"Ughhhh. I'm so glad I'm moving out. You're the worst, mom and dad are the worst, everyone except me is the worst because you all continue - " she dramatically half-swooned, back arched, hand flung dramatically across her forehead - "you all continue to totally invalidate my concerns! What if I develop a severe gluten intolerance and you just feed me bread in my time of need??? What a terrible family you would be." None of these concerns had any actual root in reality, and they probably never would, but they sounded suitably set - upon for this hour's taped - together loop of complaints; what little substance any of Fern's worries ever had was long - diluted by the time she brought them (very aggressively) to anyone else's attention. She didn't care one way or the other -- it worked well enough as it was, an eternal unimportant status quo of complaints that never actually went anywhere, confirming her worries in their reality. Nothing needed to ever change too much as it was; perpetually imperfect.

Well. Maybe moving in with a household of other colorful characters might give her the shakeup her life needed to mean something important. To mean something beautiful and pointedly awful. Maybe.