In Which We Learn an Important Lesson
Class 2B, via its usual suspects, delivered its own special brand of teaching hell again today. But what else is new?
My sore throat sure isn't. I took my medicine! It went away! Why is it back? Why is there eye-watering pain when I yawn? How long will it take me to drag my grumpy self back to the doctor and demand a higher class of antibiotics?
In other news, on Sunday there was an informal volleyball tournament for the young folks working at various Boards of Education (specifically, those of Oma, Hachinohe, Sannohe, Misawa, and some place that just wasn't memorable enough for me). The playing itself was a lot of fun, even if our team didn't do so well in the rankings, but there was a yaki-niku event afterwards (basically, it's a "grill your own meat" affair). If would have been nice if my supervisor, who was one of the organizers, had mentioned this to me so that I could have brought my own lunch. Alas.
I tried to make a meal out of what vegetables were available (cabbage and onions, mostly, with a few slices of eggplant and potato), but my efforts to keep my stuff on the meatless end of the grill didn't seem to work. Shortly after I got home, I was hit with the most intense stomach discomfort in my recent memory. We're talking abject, whimpering misery. It was far, far worse than the time that restaurant claimed the ramen didn't have any pork in it, even though the noodles were floating in what was, essentially, pig juice.
The best part? It went on for seven hours. I honestly thought I'd run to the toilet enough times to get all the cow-particles out of my system, but I was still wishing for disembowelment when I went to bed (where I had surreal, colorful dreams about hotel break-ins and group floggings). I felt okay when I woke up this morning, aside from the Very Sore Throat of Great Bemusement, but if I get another yaku-niku party sprung on me without warning, I will be eating raw cabbage straight from the plastic baggie.
Moral of the story: After nine years without, the body comes to regard red meat as a dangerous foreign substance that is not to be digested.
Loosely related moral appended by later chronicler: "Pescetarian" is a fun word.
My sore throat sure isn't. I took my medicine! It went away! Why is it back? Why is there eye-watering pain when I yawn? How long will it take me to drag my grumpy self back to the doctor and demand a higher class of antibiotics?
In other news, on Sunday there was an informal volleyball tournament for the young folks working at various Boards of Education (specifically, those of Oma, Hachinohe, Sannohe, Misawa, and some place that just wasn't memorable enough for me). The playing itself was a lot of fun, even if our team didn't do so well in the rankings, but there was a yaki-niku event afterwards (basically, it's a "grill your own meat" affair). If would have been nice if my supervisor, who was one of the organizers, had mentioned this to me so that I could have brought my own lunch. Alas.
I tried to make a meal out of what vegetables were available (cabbage and onions, mostly, with a few slices of eggplant and potato), but my efforts to keep my stuff on the meatless end of the grill didn't seem to work. Shortly after I got home, I was hit with the most intense stomach discomfort in my recent memory. We're talking abject, whimpering misery. It was far, far worse than the time that restaurant claimed the ramen didn't have any pork in it, even though the noodles were floating in what was, essentially, pig juice.
The best part? It went on for seven hours. I honestly thought I'd run to the toilet enough times to get all the cow-particles out of my system, but I was still wishing for disembowelment when I went to bed (where I had surreal, colorful dreams about hotel break-ins and group floggings). I felt okay when I woke up this morning, aside from the Very Sore Throat of Great Bemusement, but if I get another yaku-niku party sprung on me without warning, I will be eating raw cabbage straight from the plastic baggie.
Moral of the story: After nine years without, the body comes to regard red meat as a dangerous foreign substance that is not to be digested.
Loosely related moral appended by later chronicler: "Pescetarian" is a fun word.