November 21, 3:51 p.m.: Why did I think reheated nachos and beer were a reasonable choice for last night’s dinner? I feel like someone inflated a balloon in my colon. Less than 24 hours in, and there’s a good chance that I have done irreparable damage to my alimentary canal. I’m considering swallowing a handful of pins to pop the balloon.

The dogs were looking at me disdainfully the entire time I was getting ready for work this morning. I think they suspect that I murdered J-Kerm. The elder one had gas with that sickly sweet smell like rotten fruit. I suspect that I didn’t account for all of the nachos last night. I also suspect I’m sleeping with the windows open tonight.

I tried to return a box of dog treats during lunch, and the kid behind the counter flat-out said “No.” I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I left. What a weird world this is.