Eggplant Parmesan and Roses

Probably it is unfair to blame my day's woes on the microwaved eggplant parmesan I consumed last night for dinner, but life isn't fair, so the dish is taking the fall. I thought it tasted a little funky, but honestly, eggplant always sort of tastes not quite right to me, so I ate it all without a second thought. Before I went to bed, my stomach began feeling uncomfortable. Not hurting or queasy, but weird. Hence I didn't fall asleep until after 2 am, although I suppose I used my time well by reading a Rolling Stones article about Britney Spears.

This morning, I was queasy, although I suspected it could be from the thought of getting out of bed or the residual effects of reading about Britney as much as anything substantial. I ate me some cereal, drank some delightful English breakfast tea with milk, and hustled off to teach my budgeting class. I thought I successfully passed as an alert and cheerful instructor until someone commented on how tired I looked. The good news is I then admitted that I might have eaten something that didn't agree with me, and so when I got a horrific taste in my mouth, no one minded that I chewed gum. Plus, another person offered me a Tums, and that was a big help.

After the class was over, I took advantage of the sunny day and walked the two or so miles home. It struck me as odd that so many people were carrying roses. Later, I became outright annoyed at the number of bodegas that put buckets of flowers out all over the sidewalk, narrowing the space available for walking and impeding my progress. It was only when I passed a bake stand at the farmer's market on 66th Street and saw the heart-shaped chocolate brownies with dyed red coconut shreds that I understood what was going on: VD infects the city once again.