14 June 2002

I made frozen pizza for dinner last night, and as Matt and I were picking up our second round of slices, Matt was - as Matt frequently is - joking around. He made some crack, then said, "Please don't fling hot cheese on me."

"I don't think it's hot enough," I said.

"It's still warm!"

"Oh, warm, sure, but I doubt this pizza is going to cripple you for life or anything."

"The day I am crippled for life by a pizza is the day I give it all up," he said scornfully.

"No," I replied. "The day you are crippled for life by a pizza is the day you become a supervillain with a pizza theme."

Matt struck a dramatic pose. "I shall become... Pizza Face!"

I spent all day yesterday trying to identify this weird taste in the back of my mouth. Or get rid of it.

When I finally identified it, I wanted even more to get rid of it. It tasted like I'd swallowed a mouthful of soapy water by accident - only the taste wouldn't go away over time. I couldn't taste the "soap" while I was eating, but it came back after half an hour. It drove me crazy.

I thought it was because of the fluoride rinse my dentist had given me, and so today I switched to Matt's cinnamon Act. But I can just barely taste it again, at the back of my mouth...

Ick.

I was actually in bed last night by ten o'clock.

At 10:01, Matt came upstairs to tell me that K.T. had logged in and was sorry she missed me.

I was so tired, I didn't even consider getting back up. "Tell her I'm sorry I missed her, too," I mumbled, "and I'll see her tomorrow." I rolled over and pulled the blanket over my head.

I hate missing out on anything, but I'd been dozing off in my chair since seven. I needed sleep.

I kept waking up during the night and looking at my clock. I'm not sure why it was so vitally important for me to know the time while I was sleeping - I wasn't afraid the alarm had been turned off or anything.

But despite that, I feel much better this morning. Amazing what getting more than five hours of sleep in a night can do for you.

--Liz