We are always fine! Everything is good.

O.K., I have had the stomach flu for the past two days, the first of which I'm sure involved a near-death experience in which my entire central nervous system tried to pass itself through my colon, or at least it felt like something on that order was going on. The second day was, mercifully, not as bad as the first, although I made it downstairs to get some ginger ale and had to take a nap on the couch for two hours to recover from the exertion. You know, I had a boyfriend once who told me that colonics were ridiculous because the interior of your colon renews itself every 36 hours or something, so there's nothing sinister in there to be rinsed out, but based on my personal experience this week, I'm going to have to say that I don't think I buy this particular assertion of his. My friends at the co-op referred to my experience not as flu, but as "detoxification." I almost kind of like that, though, because the implication is that I am now cleansed. By running a 101 degree temperature for the better part of twenty-four hours, by either pooping or vomiting every trace of everything I'm eaten since, roughly, New Year, maybe, I have made myself new. To me, this means less sarcasm, more love. Less Lucy Van Pelt, more Sally Brown. I don't know, I guess we'll see what happens.

L-O-V-E,
Mr. White Chocolate Poop Squeeze