Raise your hand if you are at all surprised that, after the last month of my life, I am sick.
Yeah, me neither.
It's my fault. I moved and then drove and then moved again and then started a new job and then had houseguests and then went to the Sondre Lerche show at the 9:30 Club (totally worth it, BTW--I don't care who you are or what kind of music you like, you will like Sondre Lerche), and then my body said OKAY, WE'RE NOT DOING THIS ANYMORE, and so here I am, sniffling and sweating and leaving a trail of Kleenex behind me. It's miserable, but it's not very mysterious.
The good news is that, in a moment of prophetic grocery shopping, I bought a box of frozen, chocolate-dipped bananas the other day. When all other foods seem disgusting, when I simply can't conceive of keeping anything else down, the frozen banana saves all with its cold, tangy goodness. Nice one, self. Keep it up with the therapeutic snack foods.
The other good news is that I'm hopping a flight to New York tonight, heading up to some relatives for Thanksgiving. Of course, this would all be better if I were not in danger of a) passing out in the middle of Dulles International, or b) infecting an entire plane full of people with the plague, but I am excited about seeing this side of the family, about a big Thanksgiving meal (ironic; also, if I'm not eating properly by tomorrow, heads will roll), and about doing whatever it is New York people do as fall turns to winter. It's going to be good times, and I hope your Thanksgivings are also wonderful, no matter what you're doing.
I'm having a banana and going back to bed.