You know how people say they thought they were having a heart attack and then it turns out just to be gas. That kind of happened to me last night. Except I checked my pulse and it was just fine. But damn it if that gas pocket lodged somewhere in the left side of my chest didn't feel like something messed up with my heart.

I knew what caused it. Wolfing down veggie quesadillas (asparagus, corn, mushrooms, and refried beans, plus loads of cheese and hot sauce) last night for dinner. The skunked beer probably didn't help any either.

It was a little like when Charlie and Grampa Joe drank the Fizzy Lifting Drink in Willy Wonka. Each belch helped alleviate it a little, but it was tough summoning them. I tried to do exercises I saw on the net to work it out, but they were too painful, so finally I took the easier route of drinking some hot mint tea, which actually helped quite a bit. Unfortunately the pain meant getting no sleep last night so when I finally got to sleep around 6:00 a.m. there was no way in hell I was going to work.

So I slept in this morning and am now watching Deathproof, reading Under the Radar, doing laundry and trying to keep belching. And feeling old.