fullness

Well, I'm feeling very sorry for myself again: My intestinal bug has passed, but in the mean time my stomach has shrunk to the size of a peanut and I get full after two bites! I am obsessed by thoughts of all the food I want to eat, and yet I can't eat any of it. I want apple pie in the worst sort of way. Rice pudding would be very nice, too. I also crave chocolate mint patties--I think See's Candies makes a rather nice one--and a nice big deli sandwich would be mighty welcome, too.

It's like being in some version of Tartarus, where Tantalus is surrounded by delicious smelling fruit that bobs out of his reach whenever he tries to pluck it. I could eat all this stuff, but I'd regret it. For days.

That's the downside of being a lit professor. You've got an overblown literary example for just about everything. All that stuff I said about earlier about literary metaphors and new ways of thinking about things and all that?

Forget I said that. Right now I'd prefer not to know.