Hysteriosis

Apparently, I cannot be trusted with a worry-free pregnancy. Even though everything was fine on Wednesday, I am determined to obsess about possible contaminates, inordinate vomiting, and the general state of the world. Last night, Scholar and I went to a hamburger joint. I had a burger and some delicious fries, which I supplemented with blue cheese dressing. This is a favorite combination of mine. I haven't had it in forever, because I read in one of my pregnancy books that soft cheeses, like brie and bleu, can carry a bacteria called listeria (hey -- doesn't that sound like a children's book). Last night, I broke down and had a small cupful of dressing. I even asked at the front counter if the dressing was pasteurized. I found out that it was a commercial salad dressing, Ken's, but the ingredient label didn't say if it was pasteurized or not.

I chanced it. I know it was irresponsible, but damn! Those fries were good. I kept thinking, "It's a commercial salad dressing. It's not homemade. What are the chances that it's even real bleu cheese, for god's sake?"

I am a terrible mother.

Anyway, we also went to an ice cream place and had frozen custard. And when I came home about an hour later, I literally puked up my toenails. It was mostly frozen custard, seasoned with bits of hamburger (aren't you glad you read my blog?). But afterward, I felt much better.

This morning, I came down and watched some Discovery Channel. Very first thing on was a story about a mother who lost a baby at 4 months because of listeria.

Oh. Great.

Of course, it's more likely that I engaged in chunk propulsion because I ate too much fast food. But that would be rational thinking, folks -- a subject at which I have never excelled. I'm much more likely to jump to the worst possible conclusion.

I am not so much Wonder Woman as Worry Wart.