The Macy*s Parade

While I'm mentally writing bigger and better posts, which may or may not ever make it onto ye olde blogge, I'll share an unfortunate confluence of events. I came home from work very hungry and tired and, to my shame, made frozen pizza for dinner. It was extra-super-salty, but filling and comforting in that crappy-fatty-food way. I drank a beer with it. The beer was much better than the actual pizza, some English pale ale or another. (G eats frozen pizza about weekly; I seldom join him in it.)

Naturally, this "dinner" left me very thirsty, so I drank a lot of water. I started filling up like a water balloon--the salt made me bloat. I began work on the dough for the hot cross buns I'd been planning to make. By the time I finished and cleaned up, leaving the dough in the fridge to rise slowly, it was about ten o'clock, I was very tired, and it was time to take my birth control pill. I popped in a No-Babies Pill and an allergy pill, then got ready for bed. After showering--and noting that I'd grown about as wide as a Mac truck since morning--I couldn't remember whether I'd taken my birth control. I went to check the pack, and discovered I'd taken two birth control pills. Had I taken an allergy med at all? I'll never know for sure, but I do know that birth control, unlike antihistamines, can be extremely bloating. I rolled into bed a la Violet Beauregard and fell asleep, watery and huge.