Among the perils of running a household of one: my nemesis the refrigerator.

Actually optimism and thrift may be my elements of hubris in this case. Two nights ago was the second time in the past few months I have woken up puking. Ok, so maybe the slightly slimy tomato at the bottom of the fridge wasn't so good after all. Or maybe it was the yellow pepper… it’s hard to tell when so much of your food stays around so long.

Since I was young I have had an aversion to retching which borders on the neurotic. By the time I was ten I had trained my stomach against this upchucking so well that for ten years I never barfed. This herculean record ended my sophomore year with an unfortunate encounter with some summer sausage. Those of you who have tried this abomination of preservatives may take pity on me. But what really is the problem with puking? Surely not the actual, involuntary vomiting, for once that is over we all feel much better. Indeed, many times it seems to be nature's way of helping us expel harmful digestants. Perhaps it is the undeniable realization that we are retching. That, no matter how much we would like to be dualists, Aristotle was right: we are body and mind together.

Sometimes we are just wretched people retching.

And that is a truly humbling experience.