I had a 7:30 p.m. train out of New York. I was in Washington by 10:15 and smashed by 11. As I crouched on all fours in my bathroom, vomiting up dinner, I felt this huge wave of guilt. A piece of crab cake. Some string beans. A bit of rice. There goes the dinner my mother had made, knowing it would be the last meal she'd make for me in a few weeks.

My God, you wouldn't believe how hard it is to clean partially digested crab cake from a wall.