Day Two Hundred Ten

Monday was bleh. I had no energy, and the stuff I was blowing out of my nose showed why: my body was a battleground between the infections and the antibiotic.

I managed to take a short walk to shop at our two local grocery stores, which defined the boundary of what I was physically capable of. When I think of the eighteen-mile hike I took back in October, up and down the mountains of Acadia, with a heavy pack, it makes me want to spit and swear. I don’t like being sick.

Aside from that walk, I spent the whole day watching Doctor Who. It was just as pleasurable and guilt-tinged as the previous paragraph might lead you to suspect. There’s a lot of housework that part of me feels like I should have done, although another part of me recognizes the need to merely rest.

I spent a good portion of the day fighting amongst myselves over whether or not I should have one of those delicious Hofmann hot dogs in the freezer. Aside from the dubiousness of the assertion that I somehow deserved one, there was the more important issue of the slippery slope: I know myself well enough to see how easily I could progress from one hot dog today, to one hot dog with Pepsi tomorrow, to two hot dogs and two Pepsis the next day, and so on. Above all, I had to prevent myself from stepping onto a slippery slope.

So I made a compromise. I pulled the leftover hamburger from the weekend out of the freezer, thawed it, and made myself a cheeseburger for dinner. It violated my diet, but it could have been a hell of a lot worse, and it wasn’t a slippery slope; this won’t escalate the way a hot dog would.

Four days of the antibiotic down. Six to go. Ugh.

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