"My mom tells me I'm not much of a catch."

Last night before bed, I swallowed a pill that lodged itself in my air passage. Over the course of the next 12 hours, it slowly made its way down into my lungs. If you want to know what happens in a situation like this, let me tell you that it burns. Really bad. I'm not sure what happened once it reached my lungs, but it did stop feeilng like I had swallowed a hamster with sharp nails whole.

I spent another weekend in Iowa, this time with Carly. In the 36 hours we were there, we managed to go to a frat house, meet her kindergarten boyfriend, involve ourselves in a 7-car interstate wreck, tour the Obama campaign headquarters, watch Meredith try on 10 different outfits, go to two smoky bars, hear political babble, sleep next to a snoring boy, pronounce Dubuque as 'duh-BUCK-ee', enjoy an interstate traffic standstill for 2 hours and car dance wildly to the Backstreet Boys. I even introduced her to her car's cruise control, helpful after 7 years of thinking it didn't work.

I'm still sleepy. It takes me a couple of days to recover from busy weekends. I've been like this since I was little. It probably didn't help that we got in at 2 a.m. and then I slept in the fetal position on a too-small couch next to a thundering snorer.