Last night I brought home takeout from Calhouns after working out at the guy for a half hour. Everybody enjoyed their meal, but after about 2/3 of the way through my Smokehouse Salad, I determined I wasn't enjoying mine so much.
I think something to do with the fact I had pushed myself a bit at the gym, along with some certain combination of salty ham, honey mustard and deviled eggs gave my stomach the collywobbles.
Which, by the way, is a wonderfully descriptive word. On of those few in the English language that means exactly one thing - no more, no less, no fooling around. If you've had the collywobbles, you know exactly what I mean.
So My Valentine was nice enough to let me lay on the couch for a while - even after My Valentine had gotten a cortisone shot in her foot earlier in the day and was herself laid up for a while - and put the kids to bed while I went on to bed myself about 9:30.
I felt better as the evening went on, and I laid there and read the first half of Stephen King's new book, "Cell", which is kind of like "The Stand" meets "Night of the Living Dead". At least so far.
I haven't watched "24" yet from Monday night, so nobody spoil me.
I don't know where those collywobbles came from, but I'm glad they left quickly.