Sept. 28: 33 weeks. Size of a durian. Don't know what that is? Neither did I. Here's a pic: Durian. And steps for eating one: http://www.wikihow.com/Eat-Durian
Someone offers me a seat on the subway. This time, it's a man. Guys, you gained a point. The man that offered me his seat did not speak English as a first language. White American Men, you are still in ranking lowest in this social observation.
Sept. 29: For the fainting, I was encouraged to take an iron supplement. The pill form can make one constipated and I am unwilling to go there. (Or not go there, as is more appropriate.) So, I bought the liquid kind, of which I am to take a mere 10 ml.
People.
It's gross.
Sheffield catches a whiff and, while repulsed, cannot refrain from giving it a try. "It's not worth it," I plead with him, even though I know he won't listen.
And that curiosity killed the cat,
And that Sheffield is a cat on his 1,000,099th life.
So he tastes the liquid iron supplement, and I admit I am slightly comforted that he gags and compares it to "16 year-old rancid prune juice."
Misery loves Curiosity.
People.
It's gross.
Sheffield catches a whiff and, while repulsed, cannot refrain from giving it a try. "It's not worth it," I plead with him, even though I know he won't listen.
And that curiosity killed the cat,
And that Sheffield is a cat on his 1,000,099th life.
So he tastes the liquid iron supplement, and I admit I am slightly comforted that he gags and compares it to "16 year-old rancid prune juice."
Misery loves Curiosity.
