98

I got a 98% on my pathophysiology exam. Here's something really sick: That grade feels like failure to The Brain. I won't bore you with long tales of The Demon of Perfectionism's weary ways though. Just know that The Brain's sick belief is that that score could have been higher.

Dave picked me up from class and we swung by the giant fizzy drink store for giant fizzy drinks and I had an order of cheddar cheese-stuffed jalapeno peppers because eating awful things always somehow makes me feel a tiny bit better. (You know the eat-your-feelings drill, right? And the failure of a stupidly high A on the exam is one of those feelings that must be eaten.)

We came home and put together a dinner of veggie tacos with buffalo cauliflower, red cabbage, guacamole, chopped tomatoes, and cheese. After, still hungry, I had a slice of toast with soy nut butter and grape jelly on top.

I've had a sore throat and pain in my chest for four days now and I'm debating whether or not to go and get it checked out in the morning. My useless regular doctor, Dr. Shmoo, has a new receptionist who thinks it's her job to schedule all appointments a month from now, so I'll end up going to urgent care and seeing one of their useless doctors. Urgent care doctors are great if you have something that fits one of the four diagnoses they know how to make (UTI, flu, in-grown toenail, or UTI), but I don't have a lot of faith in their skills otherwise. Who knows? Maybe my sore throat will turn out to be a UTI, right?

Mostly I'm worried because I am getting on a plane in two days time and airplane travel is notoriously hard on one's respiratory system. I don't want to end up making things worse or becoming patient zero for the plague that wipes out everyone in the Midwest. (Though thinking about the demographics of the population of the Midwest US, that might not be such a bad thing. It might drive the nail into the coffin that is Trump's presidential campaign.)

In other news: I broke three bowls today. Two at once while taking things out of the fridge for my lunch. One while doing the dishes.

And don't think that all of this small bits of sickness and sadness aren't colored by the news from Orlando, Florida, and the subsequent failure of our elected officials to offer any solution that might anger the NRA folks who hold their leashes.

I can't.