(That’s how the song goes, right?)

My lovely wife is in Indianapolis on some sort of work-related sojourn that required that she bring food.  She had me make piles and piles of grapefruit guacamole last night so that she had something to bring.  We didn’t get around to doing this until after the boy had been put to bed, so I finished the guacamole around, oh, 9:30 or so.  We made way more than normal so that we could have some.

And then we had some.  And by “some” I mean “everything that she wasn’t taking to work.”  At 9:30 at night.

I spent all night with massive heartburn and woke up this morning and threw up; the last eight hours have not been pleasant.

It’s not the guacamole, mind you– it’s that I’m not goddamn 22 anymore and I should never eat like that again.

I am not very bright.

The end.