There's No Such Thing as Re-Learning...

...because if you have to learn something "again" then you apparently didn't learn it in the first place, did you?

Once upon a time I got my tongue pierced.  And I was very good about the after-care, and avoided all those foods you're supposed to avoid, for as long as I was supposed to avoid them (six weeks, in case you were curious).

Except.

Except that one day, two months or so after the initial piercing, I got myself a delicious sandwich-on-a-bagel, and took a big ol' bite- and immediately wanted to scream as the acid of the tomato hit the apparently still-raw hole in my tongue.  I tell you, gentle readers, there may have been some tears shed over that incident, and not just from pain (I'd really been craving that sandwich!)

So yes, the lesson learned there is that it's a bad idea to eat acidic things when you have any sort of raw wound in your mouthular region.  Being a painful lesson, it stuck in my head for a very long time.  About ten years, I guess.  Well less, obviously... but still, a long time.

Nathan generously shared his Plague with me (generously shared with him by his brother Ben- I love our sharing family...) so I've been coughing and sneezing in a rather uncomfortable manner.  To the point where I can taste some blood- not because I'm coughing it up, mind you, but just because that's how raw my throat has become.  But did I stop to think of this as I took a bite of delicious Publix-brand pizza this evening?  No I did not.  Until I was swallowing it, and the tomato sauce hit the back of my throat and I whimpered....

But hey, that's understandable, right?  I mean, it had been about ten years since the last time I'd encountered such an occasion so hey- it could happen to anyone.  What happened a few hours later, however, defies even my wondrous way with slippery logic.

Nathan got out the orange juice and I thought, "Yes, vitamin C.  That is an excellent idea."  So I held out my glass and he poured in a generous amount, and I straight up chugged it- so fast that it wasn't until I swallowed that I realized my throat was on bloody fire.  "Acid!" I choked out, and scampered over to the sink to get myself some water.  Nathan watched with bemused sympathy- although no empathy, since he has been able to take the cough syrup I am constantly having to remind my doctor I can't have (oxycodone is not my friend).

You know what?  I take back what I said later about it defying my way with logic.  Because I've decided that when one is stricken with Plague, one cannot possibly be expected to think straight.