Yesterday my sister told me I was full of it. She was right. I’ve been blessed by a prophetic word from my sister, and I am full of it!

Me and my gastronomy don’t talk much. We do infrequent business. It takes a couple of days for me to get around to sitting down for a long discussion, and even then if it’s not convenient I’ll put it off another day or so. But I’m quite serious when I get down to it; in fact the product of these interviews has been compared to bricks, submarines, and other sturdy materials.

Now, me and my gastronomy, we don’t talk much, but we’re on good terms generally. I listened with concern when the gastronomy started grumbling and complaining. I expected a torrent of complaint to follow. But for all the grumbling, the gastronomy never came up with much. The oddity of it prompted me to remark, in that familial way, to my sister, who kindly informed me that I was full of it. Apparently my gastronomy is suffering from repressed feedings.

I took some fiber yesterday, and I have tried to drink plenty and eat high-fiber foods. I know these things can take time, but I am disappointed by the results so far. Although the issues presented by my gastronomy are increasingly transparent, there isn’t much substance to them, and I believe the bulk of the matter is yet to come. It may take more forceful intervention to achieve resolution.

I wish it were over and done with.