It’s funny being told one day that your heartbeat goes double as fast as it apparently should. It’s such an abstract piece of information. I don’t even think about my heart – let alone ever lend a thought to the speed of its pumping – and suddenly, I’m in possession of this bizarre fact. 120 beats per minute. I guess it’s cute to know. However, there’s usually a downside to interesting physical abnormalities, and in this case it is that I’m forced to survive off of herbal and fruit teas. I doubt there’s anything quite as sad as wishing one could take that English Breakfast teabag out of the cupboard and pour hot water and milk over it. Problems grow such strange proportions if you only let them.

December 30, 2003