Today I did nothing but see my doctor. And because I was woken by the damnable thigh cramp in the middle of the night, and because I had to be up two hours before my usual wake up time, I was a zombie most of the (quite splendidly sunny and cool) day. But also because the numbers at work were a third of the usual, once again I had the day off and consumed calories at Starbucks while dutifully ploughing through Burckhardt. Burckhardt hints at monstrous things various popes did or said, but wiki reports no horrors. Possibly what 19th century Germans thought was unforgivable in a Pope (writing mild pornography, thinking better of what the German princes wanted and siding with the Italians instead) is a trifle to us.
Starbucks' marble cake is a chronic temptation, but so is Ryvita sesame rye crackers. With butter alone, or avocado, but worst with the newly discovered soft cheeses that taste as Camembert did in my 20s, which Camembert no longer does. I like to think cake is my downfall but in the long run it's actually starch and fat. Luckily my doctor's scale suggests that my lower-weighing balance scale is more correct than the highly variable and occasionally nonsensical digital one. Those chickens have not come home to roost yet.