McCoffin

Got the results of my physical back this week.  やった!  Not only did my cholesterol fall to positively un-American levels, it seems that my triglycerides are a third of what they were eight months ago.  Yay for running and green tea!  So, to celebrate my good health news, I naturally ate McDonalds for breakfast.

It's only mildly ironic.  I actually have been making healthy choices as of late.  But that has not always been the case.  Twelve years of smoking hand-rolled cigarettes and Lucky Strike non-filters, ten years of drinking grain alcohol like it was a career, countless years of guzzling cola when water or actual food would have been more appropriate, nights of insufficient sleep, and the physical toll of anxiety and anger mismanagement have all left their mark upon my little body.  (Incidentally, all those marks become plainly visible when I see my reflection in the window of the subway).

Well, when I ordered my McDonalds breakfast set, an image came to mind of me pounding a nail (one with a big trademark "M" engraved on the head) into my own coffin.  Kind of like Queequeg.  Except he commissioned his coffin in a febrile state; it wasn't wrought by his own hand.  Speaking of Queequeg and company: flying to America once, a passenger named Ishmael was paged to the counter.  If our plane had plummeted into the Pacific Ocean, I suppose he'd have had better odds than the rest of us.  But I digress.

とにかく... I'm just grateful my health is good enough that I can find the idea of driving my own coffin nails whimsically amusing (if a wee bit dark).