Nausea

It's been a week since I started my new medicine, and I have been nauseous almost the entire time. I haven't enjoyed eating anything or wanted to eat anything in seven days, a depressing situation. I'm sure the medicine wouldn't make me quite so ill if I took it on a full stomach, but I can't bear to put anything in my stomach since each day I'm still queasy from the previous day's dose.

What this means is that if there is anything I can stand to put in my mouth, I think I'm entitled to do so, even if that means subsisting on pancakes for days at a time. This morning, in a fit of optimism, I went to the farmers' market and bought peaches, tomatoes, and rhubarb, and when I got home I baked two gorgeous golden loaves of whole wheat bread. When they cool a bit I am going to make every effort to have a tomato sandwich.

When I got back from my trip to Buffalo, I found that my apartment had been invaded by fruit flies. This is enraging since my apartment is sprayed for pests every month. If I am going to be subjected to constant doses of poison which will lodge in my fatty tissues and deform my children, I had darn well better get a pristine, bug-free apartment out of the deal. But they are damnably resilient. I got some fly strips, but the only kind they had at the store are meant to hang, which means that I keep getting my bangs stuck in them. I also can't open any of my cabinets, since the fly paper hangs from precariously hung chopsticks and corkscrews. Very annoying.

This weekend is a conference on philosophy and robots, which it seems unlikely I will attend, but Susan has invited me to join her at the party afterwards so I guess I'm doing that. I strongly hope no one asks me about any of the talks; if they do I will say I was busy translating Schiller all day. If I put in half an hour or so that ought to be enough to make it true. In a way I'm eager for the semester to start because I am awfully unmotivated these days.