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Miracle Yoghurt
Have you ever gone to the supermarket while on a clear liquid diet? It's a torturous experience. Even things that you don't normally like seem to be taunting you as part of the enormous display of things that you can't eat. The only source of refuge is the juice aisle, and even then there's only a select section that you can look at without feeling the urge to attack the shelf face first like a tyrannosaurus. You don't absolutely have to go without food on a clear liquid diet - the sheet says that you're allowed jelly, but unlike the Germans I've always found that an abomination unto mankind. Jam without seeds is also permissible. No, no bread - just jam. Or you can drink syrup.
My strict Russian doctor put me on this most depressing diet in the world for 48 hours over the weekend again, but after deciding that I'd technically been on it for that amount of time on Sunday morning (only having had a cereal bar on Friday), I started the process of gradually attempting food. I've self-diagnosed that the antibiotics I was on just obliterated my entire system so I'm experimenting with yoghurt (combined with more jam) which is apparently meant to work miracles. This stage is appropriately called the "bland diet", and Whitney has made some very nice matzoh ball soup to see me through it, as you really can't get much blander than matzoh. I might even try some bread today with butter on it, if that doesn't sound too ambitious at lunchtime.
In the meantime I'm just generally pathetic - I accidentally fell asleep for the morning today even though I'd meant to haul myself into work and reclaim my desk. And yesterday I somehow managed to nearly pull my entire head off while drying my hair (or more accurately for me, drying my head) and need to remember to swivel myself entirely round instead of ever looking to the left. So if I die from anything now it's going to be from crossing the road.
My strict Russian doctor put me on this most depressing diet in the world for 48 hours over the weekend again, but after deciding that I'd technically been on it for that amount of time on Sunday morning (only having had a cereal bar on Friday), I started the process of gradually attempting food. I've self-diagnosed that the antibiotics I was on just obliterated my entire system so I'm experimenting with yoghurt (combined with more jam) which is apparently meant to work miracles. This stage is appropriately called the "bland diet", and Whitney has made some very nice matzoh ball soup to see me through it, as you really can't get much blander than matzoh. I might even try some bread today with butter on it, if that doesn't sound too ambitious at lunchtime.
In the meantime I'm just generally pathetic - I accidentally fell asleep for the morning today even though I'd meant to haul myself into work and reclaim my desk. And yesterday I somehow managed to nearly pull my entire head off while drying my hair (or more accurately for me, drying my head) and need to remember to swivel myself entirely round instead of ever looking to the left. So if I die from anything now it's going to be from crossing the road.
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D.F.
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I still find it mortally embarrassing that I died within four seconds of starting Amon Ra by stepping into the road and being run over by a bus, but I hadn't realized that you could actually change location like that provided you looked at both the left and the right hand side of the screen first. Their logic does sort of make sense in a uniquely Sierra way.