By Friday, I noticed a strange, rotten-apple miasma lingering in my throat, and worried it was a sign of ketoacidosis—a diabetic condition that can be induced by a combination of alcohol and malnutrition. The owner of the paper left me an angry email complaining that my beer bottles were attracting flies. Also, I realized I hadn't had a bowel movement in three days. When it came, it was like squeezing oil paint out of a tube. I spent the next hour on the internet researching the Bristol stool scale, used to diagnose health from the consistency of your poop. It turned out there was no classification for what had just happened to me.