A little cheese with that whine.

I am having such an emotional day that I feel like eating my feelings, but nothing even sounds good. That's messed up.

Oh, right.

Ever wish you had someone you could talk to about anything, who would just listen to your problems, not pass judgment, give advice when needed, and be trusted not to tell all your friends what you talked about?

Oh, wait — that's called a psychiatrist, isn't it?

4 years

Sad tonight.

Word to the wise

Maybe you're one of those people who think of themselves as helpful. Or maybe you just like to prove you know things. Or maybe you just straight up like to make yourself feel good.

But know this: If you are in the gym, and you see someone with less-than-perfect form on the treadmill or weights or heavy bag or whatever, unless they ask you for advice, don't try to help them.

They are in the gym, aren't they? They're doing better than most of America. They're probably feeling pretty good about themselves.

So when you approach this stranger (without taking off your earbuds so you can't hear how loudly you are actually speaking) and offer unsolicited advice on what they're doing wrong, there's a very good chance they will react poorly.

Maybe at first they'll see that you are correct and acknowledge it with something along the lines of, "Yes, I know. I'm working on it." Maybe they'll even smile.

But when you keep talking, in your earbud voice, about what they're doing wrong and the effect it could have, things change. You are no longer being helpful. You are just being a dbag.

That person will likely leave the gym having lost all that good-feeling mojo they had. And while you probably didn't ruin their whole day, you did ruin that gym experience for them. The kicker: A lot (most?) people have to fight the urge to stay on the couch or in bed in order to make themselves even get to the gym in the first place. You've probably tempted them to skip the next workout. And we all know what a slippery slope that can be, especially to a person who doesn't really like being there in the first place. Hopefully, for their sake, your smug attitude will be a distant memory for them when it comes time to crawl out of bed and go to the gym again.

Don't worry. When your alleged expertise is actually required, I'm sure you will be the first to know.

"Exam" Room 9

Fun fact: I'm sitting in a room at the ER waiting on Trace to have a test run. I'm quite familiar with this room. It's the same one I was in for several hours a few years ago.

I lay in this room without being seen for, oh, three to four hours, between roughly 2:30 and 7 a.m., coincidentally also on a Monday morning, while I suffered pretty much the worst pain of my life. I at one point got up, walked -- hunched over -- across the hall to the restroom, and vomited because the pain was so great. I eventually passed out from the pain and exhaustion.

When I woke up when the doctor finally came to see me, the pain had subsided (because in passing out I was able to relax my muscles). The doc the prescribed me Darvocet, which has roughly the same pain-killing properties as toast, and sent me on my way, assuming that my own personal diagnosis of kidney stones was correct. No tests, no x-rays, no pain killers. Nothing.

Well, let me tell you. I still have pain in that spot on occasion. Doesn't sound like kidney stones to you, either, huh? Right. Well, according to the second (first?) opinion I got when I was still in pain a week later, that's because it was ACTUALLY an injury known as costochondritis. My rib bone had separated from the cartilage.

Needless to say, I hate this ER, but we came here today because it's closer to our house.

I'm very worried, though I know it's not good to worry. It's so hard to see someone you love so much be in so much pain. And after the events of the weekend, this was definitely not welcome.