"Another lapse in this book, I must confess; but if I do it against my humour I shall begin to loathe it; so the one chance of life it has is to submit to lapses uncomplainingly."
- Virginia Woolf, diaries, 23 October 1917
Friday two students called me back to work after I'd gone home, to give me a chocolate 'champagne bottle' for the end of the year – a nice and affectionate gesture. Unfortunately led me to a weekend of chocolate, other candy, sugar, other junk, bad eating, miserable digestion. Yuck. Unfortunate that I am a dog and not a cat (dogs will eat until they're sick, cats stop when they are full – I've never had any control over my reaction to food in front of me, which is particularly unfortunate given my bad digestion, which is of course perpetually mildly exacerbated by HIV meds).
Also having rather bad mental digestion from too much television – jingles and scenes flashing onto my mental processes. Yuck.
Therefore nothing written and nothing done. Truth is, nothing experienced anyone would want to hear about, I suppose...