Okay, this was an odd psychological reaction.
I went to the doctor today for my annual physical, which came about 1 1/2 years after my last annual physical. Everything was super duper. The few things I was a bit concerned about turned out to be nothing. The numbers are great. The results of the probing and poking are excellent. My doctor proclaimed himself very happy. I felt very happy.
Then I went home and, instead of continuing the good diet habits that led to these good results, I pigged out. This evening, instead of exercising or writing as I had planned, I had too much alcohol and obsessively e-mailed queries to agents.
This is weird. And yet, except for the beginnings of a headache, I feel rather good.
On second thought, it's not weird. It's a combination of relief and letdown. There's a lot of nasty medical stuff in my family, from the inconvenient (enlarged prostate, arthritis), to the scary (heart disease), to the deadly (cancer). So every time I go to the doctor for an examination, I can't help but fear that my moral superiority to my forebears will turn to have been overridden by some nasty gene or other, and the doctor will frown and mutter "Uh, oh" and tell me to make an appointment with a cardiologist or oncologist.
So far, the moral superiority is winning out.