annoyance

I'm really getting annoyed with my digestive system.

In general, I try to do lower carb. I'd *like* to do seriously low carb, as in 15-30 g carbs per day, but we can't really afford that. As it is, the rest of the family usually eats rice or bread with their meals, whereas I don't, and end up eating a bit more of the expensive stuff as it is.

But lately, I've had days where my gut is unhappy with ANYTHING OTHER than toast, with butter, and usually tho not always a little bit of jam. Other days, all I want is egg noodles with eggs scrambled into them. (higher on the noodles than eggs, or I'd count that as ok.)

And then there are times when anything I put in my stomach gets it all acid and/or grumbly, until I eat STEAK. Not hamburgers; not other unadulterated lump-of-meat like pork chop. If it isn't beef in solid chunks, and nothing else with it (so, stew doesn't help), I'm either extremely acidic or my stomach's rumbling like I'm still hungry.

And let's not get into the times when I'm not hungry, but it's been 6-8 hours since I've eaten, so I eat *something*, and 5-10 minutes into the meal my stomach suddenly has me doubled over in hunger pangs.

I need a new body.

(ps: and this is why I'm getting take-home food from texas roadhouse tonight. Because neither kid wants to cook steak, and Otter is off to dinner with his dad, like he does every Friday night.)

article about emotional labor

Actually, at least partially anecdote.

http://www.harpersbazaar.com/culture/features/a12063822/emotional-labor-gender-equality/

I'm lucky, in that Otter doesn't do the "see, I did this and it took X time" as the writer says her husband does. But part of the reason that the house is a disaster is that he doesn't see it. He doesn't notice mess that isn't laundry or dishes.

Which is not to say that I do housecleaning; it's my bane, and one of my secret guilts is that I am *so glad* that my chronic pain issues make it so that I really *can't* do things. "But don't you feel so satisfied that it's done?" Yes, and it completely evaporates and turns to aggravation and hate when I have to do it again and again and again and again. And again. And. Again. This is why, when we got married, we asked the Best Friend who worked in an appliance store for a dish washer. I was FAR LESS STABBY when we got it.

Ok. Stopping venting now. It's old tales, and that's it.