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Sunday, May 6, 2001

Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest, not a day of total immobility. I spent the day away from the computer, away from the garden, and far away from any sense of purpose or accomplishment. I've been heading toward a day like this all last week. Every day I felt a little more bloated and lethargic, and finally I've come to the point that I don't feel like myself at all.

I don't want to go into too much detail, but I'll say that I spent too much time in the bathroom, and the rest of it trying to find a comfortable position where my stomach didn't feel as if it were on fire. I don't know what I've done to bring this on, but I'm not going to be able to suck down Maalox and chomp on Tums for long before I look for a better answer.

bird on roof, nest below

So what's the worst possible thing I could do on a day I feel this bad? Go out to lunch?

Mom is leaving on a four-day bus tour to Southern California tomorrow. The rest of the family is out of town, so I asked her (before I knew it would be a day in hell) to a farewell lunch today. We do that kind of thing.

Since she won't read this until she gets back (and hopefully I'm fine by then), I can tell you that I tried with middling success to act normal. But it wasn't normal for me to take a quarter of my club house sandwich (and all my French fries) home in a Styrofoam box.

Anyway, that's the reason for the short, pointless entry tonight. Thanks for your attention.

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