Man, I thought I was done with these. I don’t have another day off until nine days from now, and I’m already exhausted. I ended up being stuck at work until 7:45 p.m. today. I knew I should’ve just gone home and gone to sleep, but instead I went to Tommy’s and had a chili burger, which guarantees that I’m going to have a rough night of GERD symptoms. So I’m trying to postpone that moment of lying down supine.

I had the weirdest sensation last night. For some reason, my left tricep cramped up quite painfully, and I spent at least 30 minutes trying to massage it to relax. As a result, my left sternocleidomastoid muscle cramped up as well.

This resulted in me trying to massage this muscle into relaxation as well, knowing fully well that this would result in massaging my carotid artery. Well, wouldn’t you know it, nature called after a good while of occluding my carotid, and I nearly syncopized as I stood up. Wouldn’t that have been funny?

As I sat by myself wolfing down my burger and inhaling my chili fries (which threaten to rise up from my gullet as I type), I was overtaken by this odd sense of wistfulness. It wasn’t a rational feeling (if such a thing were not a semantic oxymoron.) Meaning that I couldn’t pinpoint the stimulus. These are the times that I wonder if I haven’t done too good a job with fortifying my emotional defenses. I rarely feel a thing these days, and the moment I start feeling something, my instinct is to avoid it entirely.

This clearly cannot be healthy.

But I always remember this quote (although I can’t remember who it’s attributed to): “There’s no problem so big you can’t run away from it.”

If I survive the next nine days (including two 30 hour call nights), I’ll deal with it then, I guess.

And isn’t it humorously ominous that this upcoming is Holy Week? That is, the week leading up to the commemoration of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ? How absurdly fitting.