Love and Other Sicknesses

As of this morning I am officially considering myself ill (stomach ache), which is a nice break from the norm of healthiness. Variety is the spice of life, you know.

No, I don't like talking this way either; health truly is a gift, a splendid, beautiful gift that is not to be taken for granted. I am very very grateful for-- aside from today-- enjoying robust and virile health, and I hope I continue to enjoy it for decades and decades and decades.

A second, unrelated, and highly unofficial diagnosis is that I am love sick, which would explain why I haven't done any writing, reading, studying, exploring, or rational thinking lately. The object of my affections is, by all appearances, equally enamored of me, and so the last week has passed in a fuzzy cuddle blur of hour-long kisses and night-walks and chocolate and perfect moments of peace.

It is doing incredible things for my spirits and disastrous things to my studies, but after a semester of low-spirits I feel entitled to indulge myself.

Tonight, however, there will be no cuddling with lover in arms, only long stretches
squatting over the toilet drinking Sprite and trying to poop out whatever vile invader hath wrought such discomfort 'pon mine defenseless tummy.

Poop and cuddling, these are the things most occupying my mind tonight. If you have any comments about poop or cuddling, or would like to offer good wishes in my pursuit of either/both, please feel free to comment via the link below.