woes

There comes a time when food becomes the food-lover's worst enemy.

And no, I'm not talking about extra calories.

I'm referring to two much-dreaded words: Food poisoning.

What a day this has been.

Last night, we went to the local Irish pub for trivia night. I've spent most of this month traveling for work while simultaneously trying to move to a new house (I actually spent an afternoon in NYC last week on the phone in my hotel room, setting up utilities), so I thought a few beers, a couple of rounds of name-that-song and a big plate of bangers and mash and a side of Caesar salad would do me good.

Ha.

Dear god, please make it stop.