When I got home, I had ice cream. I REGRET NOTHING.
Phew. (I've said that a lot lately.) I got over yesterday's sickness, and I got through an eight-hour shift learning as I go. One thing I learned: I need to bring more for "lunch." That's in quotes because lunch is going to be between 4 and 5 on weekdays for a while, thanks to working late. Later. 12:30 to 9 p.m. isn't that late, even by my standards; I used to work regularly until midnight. (But never graveyard shift.) But still recovering my appetite this morning post-sick, plus bringing too little food to eat during work today/tonight, equaled me in the mood to take down a whole cowkind of hungry for the last couple of hours on shift. Lessons learned, I hope.
I know I like food. I've known that as long as I've known stuff.
This is short, because at the moment I feel especially prone to word-diarrhea. (Aaaand I just gave new meaning to "Say it, don't spray it!" I'm sorry.)