Beware the ides of March, for they bring tidings of: fast.
Okay, maybe it's not such a scary time after all.
All definitions of the word welcome, of course. My take was inspired by my experience yesterday morning - I had to go in for a blood test that required me to fast for it. Those ones are firmly entrenched at the bottom of my list of blood tests.
I may or may not actually have said list of blood tests, ranked from Misery to Just Shoot Me.
Okay, I don't. But I should.
"And how long have you been fasting?"
"Since ten o'clock last night," I reply over the rumbling complaints coming from my belly.
"Twelve hours, right on the dot," the lab tech says with a smile. "Very impressive."
"I know the instructions say twelve to fourteen hours, but I can't imagine you get many people who are at the far end of that range."
"Just the keeners," she says, tapping away at her keyboard.
"Yeah, well, my stomach starts eating itself at thirteen, so I've got a pretty narrow window to work with."