Date: 2008-11-02 11:52:02 Created: null
This week has, for me, contained two pretty strong eating experiences. It all started during the night between Monday and Tuesday, when my stomach started feeling strange and achey.
One might also say that it started on Monday, when Ellen suffered similar stomach aches. Or, perhaps, with Big Bang. But as we all know one can't afford too much of a proper perspective.
In any case, my stomach got uncomfortable and achey, and wasn't any better when I got up in the morning. So I called in sick and spent the day more or less in hibernation, broken by regular trips to the bathroom.
And this is where the first strong experience shows up. Right after a bathroom visit when I started feeling really dizzy and about to faint and realized I hadn't got much of anything to prop up my blood sugar since my extremely spartan breakfast six or more hours ago.
So I dared an expedition to the kitchen, bringin back to my bed a sweet, sweet orange.
I have long belonged to the group of people who have to make an effort not to automatically dismiss oranges as more trouble than they're worth, thinking of tough, hard-peeled skin, possible annoying seeds and inevitable and sticky juices all over my hands.
The skin was kind of tough. And I did get juices all over my hands.
But it didn't matter, because this was the best orange I've ever had.
Sweet, sweet juices. Not a single seed. Like eating solid sunlight, or whatever other silly terms marketing tries to get you to associate with juice pressed last year in some californian's backyard.
Strengthened by this and, somewhat later, another orange plus a banana and also the fact that I at least didn't get any active complaints after eating, I spent the afternoon in a somewhat more active vegetative state, namely watching the second Godfather movie.
It may not be on the topmost top of my list of best movies ever (I have to say that I'm not certain what else might be there, either), I can certainly see how it ends up there on other people's lists.
On Wednesday I was feeling a whole lot better, but still not quite up to the challenge of work (or getting there and back for that matter), so it was a second day home and the third Godfather for me.
As the evening approached my stomach was still feeling a bit uncertain, but it was clear that it wouldn't give me any serious problems with work. So I shaved, showered and started acting like a normal man (okay, I tried anyway). And happily it all worked quite normally for Thursday and Friday. My apetite was low and digestion clearly wasn't back to normal yet, but it was nothing that prevented me from getting things done. On Saturday I was going to help mr F to move, and I was curious how my body would react to that. Maybe I'd go completely drained and weak from carrying things after these days of rest and not eating much at all. Maybe I'd make my stomach worse again by shocking it with exercise and the likely fast food. But I was annoyed at the status quo anyway, so I figured the right was to go was to just try and see.
This, too, happily worked very well. I got a grumble or two from the Depths, but apart from that it felt like the work actually did me good. Perhaps I'd been too easy on myself when a more agressive eating stance would have been better. I don't know, but I do know that I had cola, kebab and two cups of coffee during the day (and a really meaty and spicy hungarian sausage in the evening), and only felt better as the day went along.
And said coca cola was the second strong eating experience of the week, drunk cool at lunchtime after carrying things for a few hours. In situations like that there isn't much that goes up against a cool, sugar-sweetened cola.
In all, the whole move went very smoothly and quickly without any stress. Just the way all moves should be. But then, it's always easier to move other people's things. You don't have to worry about where and how to put everything in the end and stuff like that ...
Now it's Sunday morning, summertime, my stomach might just be back to completely normal and it's also waffle day. A promising combination, if I may say so myself ...