Like a Hockey Puck to the Head

The last week or so has been a series of realizations. I will spare you the melodramatic interpersonal ones, and entertain you only with the truly deep, meaningful ones:

1. I have a stomach of steel, but my intestines are weak sauce. Learned this after a bout of food poisoning that managed to not have any effect until it was too far down the tube (as in past the Duodenum) to be vomit-worthy. If I were a normal person, I would have puked a few hours and been fine. Instead, I got to experience 24 hours with overwhelming gastrointestinal pain that I just had to wait out, nothing doing. Totally unfun.
   
2. Overwhelming gastrointestinal pain is not quite overwhelming enough to numb the pain of a Sharks loss during playoff season. They made up for it the next game, at least.
   
3. I've been driving around for two months with an expired car registration, because I completely forgot to pay for the online renewal in the mess of February and with the trip to NY in March. Fortunately, this has been rectified, to the tune of $133. (My on-time registration would have been $72. Word to the wise, my friends: don't be late re-registering your car.)
   
4. I'm addicted to coffee. Or maybe just caffeine, but it took a cappuccino Sunday afternoon, and the sudden reversal of mood, for me to realize that a four-day bout of general grump and crabbiness was due to withdrawals. Oops.

And now, a song about San Francisco.

(Suck of a video, but it's the song that counts.)