Guilt.

And a stomach ache. I was loyal yesterday to writing and did around nine hours when I was easily coerced into going out for a cheeseburger. I was hoping someone would take me to Friendlys, but that somebody (who was out in this area and didn't even call) went there without me. So, feeling sorry for myself, I drank a beer, but then I was forced to go to Cheeburger! Cheeburger!

I'm paying for it. Not only is my stomach not used to 1950s style beef, fries, milkshakes, and onion rings, but I lost two hours of writing so I stayed up real late to make up for it.

Picture me moaning while tapping my fingers on the keyboard piano. That's what Friday night looked like.

Friendlys wouldn't have done that to me, especially the one out in Manlius that is so far, far, far away. If only I was kidnapped to go there. Sigh.