February 26th, 2013


Very superstitious?

I was worried I'd jinx it.

After taking it plenty easy yesterday -- nothing more strenuous than watching a film, farting around online and eating -- I was feeling better and feeling happy that I'd taken the day off. I figure it was a slight stomach bug -- food poisoning? Perhaps -- and I wanted to post here last night that I was better, getting over whatever had slowed me down and kept me from getting out to work. Then I got superstitious about it, and decided not to, to be on the safe side. Or to not have the gods of irony decide Oh, you're feeling better now? Wait until THIS happens...

I try not to be superstitious, but sometimes I do fall back into it. Once I heard an analyst who studies superstition say "Everyone is superstitious. Everyone." That annoyed me. But superstition is often a quiet voice; I don't always realize when it's speaking to me, and when I'm modifying my actions based on that. How do you ignore what you don't realize you're not ignoring?

Still, happily, I'm better. A slight post-sickness headache, but nothing a generic pain pill won't be able to tackle. Which is good, because I need to work starting at 12:30 this afternoon. I let myself rest this morning, then once I felt up to it I went out for a few blocks' walk. Fresh air should help. To that end, and because I want fresh air in my apartment after being pent up over the weekend and my sick day, I've braved having the windows open. It's cold-ish but bright outside. And my sweatshirt (which I also wore to bed, because warmth is good) is my friend.

OK, time to keep adapting to my new work schedule. And to being healthy-ish again.
Flavored Calories.

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 cow kind 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.)