At the beginning of the day, I started in on this weekend's light novel (after finishing last weekend's over breakfast, having fallen a bit behind), figuring I would read for a bit and then get to the real work.  Within an hour of picking up the book (another of the oddest Inkling's), it became obvious that I would be better off sticking with the light reading today, maintaining focus, and keeping the mind in low gear.  So, reader, I did.

When golfing, there are some days in which you get to the course and realize that the wisest course would be just spending a bit of time on the chipping green and the putting green, rather than setting out on the long walk of the game.  

Likely a result of that odd episode a couple of days ago, which has left no evident physical traces -- almost certainly something I ate.  

Gently down the stream.  Particularly on certain days.  Slow and steady doesn't win the race, but it can help you from losing it, and then afterward, you can get about the business of winning the race. 

 The quest to find a travel alarm clock in Bosnia continues.  Shifting the focus to kitchen timers, but the Turkish hardware/housewares chain that I had pinned my hopes on came up empty, except for a doubtful-looking, bulky digital thermometer/clock with alarm function.  Which was vey cheap, but not what I was looking for.  

Odd.  I mean, even in Montenegro, they condescend to sell a few at the back of the hardware store.  I assume everyone here uses phones, or the morning calls from the mosques.

 Well, whatever it was now seems to have cleared the system, or, dark view, convinced the system to stop opposing it.  I don't often talk about the occasional feats of physical endurance or athletic achievements here, but it should be noted that if something puts me out of commission physically for a bit, it's highly unlikely to have been a function of the imagination.

The most obvious correlation would be the water service stopping at the apartment (municipal water projects have been a constant feature of visits here), but I only used the backup jug for second coffee, and the water had been refreshed less than seven days before.

Oats in the morning, garlic at night.

The story of Israel's exodus from Egypt has been thought worthwhile by people of many cultures over the last few thousand years.  A tribe leaves the swampy Egyptian floodplain where they had been living, working as forced labor.  Part of this was leaving the bowls of  leaven behind.  They then walk through the desert on a journey of purification, occasionally pining for the fermented pots of their old home.  Microbial balance is a thing.  It changes people, and as it changes people, it changes a culture.  And, to a visiting American, these things are sometimes perceptible -- in the country to the south, even in midwinter, whenever I returned from leaving the apartment, even if only to go to the market down the street, I took a shower and changed my clothes.  Sunlight and fresh air.

Dark, airless spaces seem to be sought out by many sorts of religious people.  I certainly suffered through many an airless Mass in the Midwest, occasionally after having run up a large hill in the morning to get there.  But it's my understanding that this physical reality is only incidentally, not essentially, connected with religion.  People feel comfortable in the old cities, in the old places, for reasons they don't fully understand.  And they're fond of the fermented foods and drinks of the place. And part of this is necessary -- if we don't have the right microbial balance inside, our bodies can't function.  But over years, and generations, and even centuries, the grime of the past can cause people to cultivate unhealthy habits, as they focus on creating a circle of life that preserves this sort of physical reality.  And the circle is necessary, and the physical reality serves it, but occasionally, there is a better way at hand.

There is a deliberate sequence to this progression of places, after the winter on the lonely ice floe.  First, the mountain.  Second, the old city.  And next, the city of the Republic, the Enlightenment. (Which is also in this city, but not this part of this city.)  

 Hm.  Well, clearly I ate something that should never be eaten, or touched something that should never be touched, or perhaps just was nearby something that one should never be nearby.  Quite the odd day or so.  Not an illness, just a pervasive feeling of toxicity, mild fever, an entirely conceptual mild nausea, etc. But very intense.  I'm not generally susceptible to those sorts of things, and I have had the good fortune in my adult years of very rarely being ill.  

Perhaps with the chill in the evening, the microbiota of the old city were able to make inroads.  Or something was off in the kefir at the supermarket cafe.

The closest correlative would be the second half of the first bar exam that I took (and passed with flying colors).  On the Upper West Side, a large armory gymnasium.  At the lunch break, I think I had the sweet and sour tofu from a cheap Chinese place nearby.  And I assumed that it caused the mind-bending unease that I felt in the second half of the exam, but in retrospect, I don't think that was it.

There was also a very peculiar episode in the second year of the JD that had something to do with environmental toxins, but I've not talked about that, for a few different reasons.

But this was much the same, in that the unease, aside from the mild fever, was entirely conceptual -- to put it bluntly, there was no chance of my revisiting my lunch. (I can't recall the last time that that happened, tbh.)  But very intense, and some lingering feelings of toxicity.  Will hydrate, rest, and try to get back to the morning exercise, but certainly not for the next few days.

Once I was ambulatory again in the (late) morning, I washed out all the clothes recently worn, swept all the floors and wiped the surfaces.  Seemed wise.

 Well, that was an interesting 24 hours or so.  Seem to be okay for it.  #breadcrumb