Well, despite all my excitement over going up North to Seattle to stay with my sis, that was quite possibly the worst weekend I can remember.

Against my better judgment and my failing memory that my sister meant to cook dinner for me, I stopped at Burger King on my way north. By the time I reached the Emerald City, my back was in knots from the drive and my stomach was feeling strangely topsy-turvy. The best my sis and I can figure is that I had mild food poisoning with a side of muscle tension. There were a few lovely moments when I felt merely puny and weak—during which moments (perhaps three or four hours total) I had a lovely haircut from my sister’s stylist, rehearsed with the guitarist for my sister’s wedding, and gleefully shopped for shoes with my sister (bridesmaid shoes: 0 pair. Red patent indulgences: 1 pair). Other than that I was either sick or recovering the whole weekend. My sister was a wonderful, doting nurse, and I am very grateful to her and her fiancé for putting up with me and my whinging. I’ve never had my body so thoroughly refuse to go back to food ever. Usually, if I’m sick, at some point I wake up to my body saying, ‘FIVE COURSE TURKEY DINNER! COUSCOUS-STUFFED PEPPERS! VEGGIE PIZZA!’ This time, I kept on waking up to new pains and aches and the same feeling that food is, on the whole, a bad idea, and we should have stuck with photosynthesis. Except that whole sunshine thing.

So I’m feeling mostly better now. I went ahead and stayed home from work, and am making myself little portions of food and patting myself on the back whenever I finish one. I feel almost human again, and have decided maybe photosynthesis isn’t the way to go. Hmm, except that there’s that lovely patio chaise Matt put together while I was gone…