Today and yesterday's newpaper actually made it to my house, which is sort of a minor miracle, and this was on the front page: The Next Generation of Mental Disorders?
Changes to the DSM are, you know, a big deal. Since I dabble in psychiatry and home surgery, I've taken the liberty of diagnosing myself with bacon affective disorder (inordinate affection for bacon, symptoms: patient feels agitated if they've gone more than eight hours with bacon, regularly puts bacon even in foods where it doesn't normally go [ex: chocolate, peanut butter, crumbled on frosting], patient hoards cold bacon fat in teacups in the fridge, patient has been known to insist that "everything tastes better with bacon!").
I'm sending my disability paperwork in today and lobbying to add this to the DSM.
In other news, I need some beets. Red or purple beets. 3 cups of them, shredded, to be exact, so I'm going to bundle up and attempt a pilgrimage to Safeway, although I think the odds of me getting there are slim and the odds that they'll have beets even slimmer. If this blog goes dormant, it's because I got a) buried in a snowdrift that is in the shade and won't melt even though all the other snow is melted and it's hot out, and you drive by and it wonder, man, will that snow bunker ever melt? or b) brained by a wad of snow falling from a roof or c) speared by an icicle similarly falling, which I imagine is sort of like that scene is the latest version of The Omen, the one with Liev Schrieber and that woman with the sort of puffy face who kind of resembles several other blonde actresses. You know, that scene where the priest is running to the church in a lightning storm and gets speared by a chunk of roof.
But with even less dignity and potentially surrounded by spilled beets.