There seems to be a pattern to the manner in which I recover emotionally from bodily injury. Years ago when my right hand was smashed in a boating accident and it was thought I might have nerve damage or loss of some motor skills, I found myself sitting in bed, jar of peanut butter in one hand, King-Size Hershey bar in the other, dealing with my pain.
Last year when I broke my pelvis and Latex Guy and my sex life was less than desired due to the many constraints on my ability to move, I often found myself with a jar of peanut butter in one hand and a milk chocolate bar in the other, consoling myself.
The last few days while I've been recovering from being hit by a truck (by the way, there is some truth to the statement "I feel like I just got hit by a truck"), I've gone through two and a half fabulous chocolate bars and about a third of a jar of peanut butter. Brit Boy made some fabulous choices in chocolate bars before he left for Cuba. Too bad he wasn't around to enjoy them.
Maybe this is why I always gain a few pounds after I injure myself.
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