05 Apr 2010

R: The doorman called me down to pick up "mail parcels" that apparently did not fit in our box. When I came down I checked our box, which I assumed to be overfull, but it was empty. Curious, I asked D at the front desk for our mail, and I got a pile of junk addressed to "Emmanuel Neuman." Damn previous tenants don't know how to forward their mail.

C: My stomach has been inexplicably unsettled lately - on nausea, off nausea...on again, off again. I've been so uncomfortable lately that I couldn't bear the thought of sweets, and despite a long walk to get to my favorite sugar depot up the street (CVS), I couldn't bring myself to buy anything once I got there. With the lingering dizziness from my head cold (not to mention the odors of my fellow MBTA riders), the morning bus ride nearly made me vomit today.

I met M on Newbury after work. He thought a little mall food would make me feel better (I often get nauseous just from hunger), but I couldn't manage more than a dry croissant and a few bites of his salad. After walking around a bit, he had a hankering for a chipwich. I had my reservations (I rejected dulce de leche cake and JP Licks $1 scoops earlier), but went along with him to a nearby 7-11. The chipwich was beginning to sound appetizing, but I was struggling once I saw a Klondike (oh, what wouldn't I do?) and then...a Good Humor Strawberry Shortcake bar. Zandar, Pachel and I used to love those delicious ice cream bars in high school, when we would spoil ourselves after our collaborated lunches and go for dessert.

With a short glasses of Lactaid milk (and a couple extra lactase pills), a Good Humor was all I needed to settle my temperamental tummy. Who knew?