Dear Hillary,

It’s been a rough week, hasn’t it? Your campaign was embarrassed on the national stage. Trump managed to appear vaguely human. Colin Powell inadvertently dropped a pretty epic diss track. Oh, and you caught pneumonia.

I wish we could say this was a blip in your campaign, but we both know it’s not. Except for the pneumonia thing. You have a habit of turning molehills into mountains (see: Comey remarks). The only real surprise here is that Trump managed to keep his mouth shut long enough make your health, and subsequent cover-up, the main story.

You’re coming down the home stretch distrusted by the the majority of voters, with a favorable/unfavorable split only second to America’s worst presidential candidate ever and, according to a recent NYT/ABC poll, the race effectively deadlocked with only eight weeks left to go. Attacking Donald isn’t working. Courting moderate Republicans isn’t working. And blaming a meme just makes you look desperate.

The problem is that Donald isn’t the problem. You are. Or, at least, how voters see you. The ones who don’t outright dislike you don’t know you, don’t know what you stand for, which means all the insinuations and batshit insanery coming from the fringe right can actually shape how the non-crazy public see you. There’s a reason nothing the right threw at Obama stuck to him, but everything they throw at you becomes a national story.

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. So instead of dragging yourself out of bed to go back onto the campaign trail, here’s a novel idea:

Stay in bed.

Don’t go back on the campaign trail. Planes and rope lines are germ factories, and you don’t like campaigning anyway. Besides, the only way you’ll generate headlines on the trail is with another ‘deplorables’-sized gaffe.

Instead, stay in bed and you can kill two birds with one stone. There’s a way voters can get to know you better and you can be yourself. I’m calling it the Bedside Chats. You, a webcam, and half an hour to be you. No teleprompter, no scripts, just you free-wheeling about policy, life, the campaign, anything but Donald Trump. According to friends and staff, you’re warm, funny, and someone that voters actually might like to grab a beer with. Your emails reveal that you grandma your staff. And of course you are a complete and utter policy wonk, which is both endearing and boring, but when the alternative is the ‘exciting’ Donald Trump, boring is perfect.

“But!” I can already hear you saying. “I can’t be seen in bed. That will just reinforce the alt-right rumors of my poor health!” That ship has sailed. What do you think will be worse: you, in bed, wearing your favorite pantsuit jammies, or you having another Weekend at Bernie’s moment? Besides, the novelty of a potential Commander-in-Chief speaking directly to the people from her bed is definitely more newsworthy than another round of internet rumors. Here, I even have your opening line: “Rumors about my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

But if you’re really worried about the deathbed narrative, we can change the scenery. Have you at your kitchen table. At your desk. Just chilling on a rug, sipping on some hot water with honey and lemon. The point is that people need to see you being you, and there’s no place that conveys that quite like being in your own home.

With the Bedside Chats, you take control of your narrative, avoid the hell that is the campaign trail, and rest up for the first Presidential debates. Plus the idea is so novel that you’re bound to steal the headlines away from Trump for a news cycle or two. Most importantly, voters get to see the real, unadulterated you. I, for one, am all aboard with Grandma-in-Chief, and honestly, I think most Americans would be too.

Good luck in November,

Random Internet Commentator