Ugh.

I forgot that I can get an upset stomach after giving blood. Combine this with doing much yardwork Sunday, eating an infernal stir fry that night, eating two slices of Nutter Butter cheesecake Monday, and then running that night, well, it's no surprise I got sick before I could finish 3 miles.

Simply getting sick while running is no fun. It's no picnic when you pull over to be sick and fall into a patch of thorns. And then be sick amid said thorns. And have to climb out to stagger back home. So, no, I was not in the best of moods when I entered the house and said hi to Your Sister. Laundry quickly ensued.

I still have Sunday's chili pepper residue under my fingernails. It flares up now and then. I can see why this stuff can quash a riot. Also, why chefs use gloves when they work with the stuff. Lesson learned.

My Mom is finally scheduling gall-bladder surgery after years of discomfort. She called me Sunday to confirm I would babysit her after the procedure and to ask if we should do it within the next few weeks. I practically yelled at her to do it immediately. I think she got the hint. She knew this was inevitable, and I suppose she feels stupid for not doing it when Dad was healthy. I might spend the last half of this week in my old house, sleeping on the very small beds.

Picture of the Day
The healthcare-reform rhetoric is getting ugly.