I didn’t make it to the gym last Thursday. I was at the doctor instead, for what seems to have been a rather painful urinary tract infection. The doctor didn’t actually diagnose me, though, in the sense that she didn’t ask me to pee in a cup, didn’t feel around on my abdomen, and didn’t have a looksy at my lady parts. She just listened as I described my frequent urination and how I was having abdominal pain and then she wrote out a prescription for a pain reliever and an antibiotic.

I’m halfway through the antibiotic (the prescription for which cost about $1.50 and my doctor’s visit $10, although Caroline’s doctor is only $1.50 a visit—just want to remind everyone how great socialized medicine is), and I feel completely better. I was actually suffering through that for a while—felt sick even before I went to London two weeks ago—so it’s nice to be healthy again.

Date #6 with Zak is tonight. Tomorrow marks two months since our first date. Six dates in two months? That’s nuts, as far as I’m concerned, and I’ve decided not to put all my eggs in Zak’s basket until I can be certain of what he wants. Which would explain why I went on a date and made out with that pickup artist back in October. And why I had a date last night with a Czech guy, who paid for me even though I had my wallet out, said at the end of the date that he’d like to see me again, and emailed me a suggestion for the next date. I’m not really sure how I feel about him, though.

On Sunday, our hash was probably the best one I’ve ever been to in Prague. I put some pictures up on Facebook: Linky.