48 Hours of Mystery: The Case of the Red Stool*

I used to watch a fair amount of Law and Order until it became clear that I am a sicko who likes her crime real, and "Ripped from the Headlines" just doesn't cut it. Hence we have episodes of Dateline NBC, 48 Hours Mystery and 20/20 queued in our DVR. This is what I watch to torture myself late at night (versus when I want to torture my husband, and then I watch The Bachelor or Brothers and Sisters).

Turns out watching late night real-crime shows has some adverse effects.

One effect is the nightmares, of course. I have dreams in which details from a 48 Hours story weave into an incident from school that week and then feature folks I've seen around our neighborhood. In the morning I can't remember if I assigned you detention or if you're the one who was arrested or if I was a witness in your trial or WHAT.

But the biggest problem to result from my dependence on True Crime Dramas is that I have been very suspicious of myself lately. I am questioning my every move.

For example, when my husband and I were recently advised by our agent to increase our life insurance, I was all too aware that such changes to policies are associated with suspicious deaths in many a Dateline NBC episode. I don't think I made myself (or the agent) feel better about my Suspicion Profile when I painstakingly yet awkwardly explained to Mr. Prudential that I am not asking these questions because I actually want to kill my husband (of course!), but can you please clarify what kinds of death are NOT included in life insurance?

So anyway, there's the life insurance. We have some and we increased it recently. By the True Crime Rubric, that does not look good. For at least two years. Maybe more, if you have friends and family who will attest during TV interviews that you were Not a Happy Couple. That, and they also Saw It Coming.

And then there's the Googling. In this Day and Age, The Internet plays a major role (like supporting actor to DNA) in Crime Investigation. You can bet that your garden-variety murderous husband, wife, or jealous lover has conducted an incriminating web search related to the manner of death and the authorities know about it.

Because I am Guilty of Falling Asleep during television shows (usually right before The Verdict) I have resorted to searching the Internet for the outcome of the drama I partially viewed the night before. On a recent occasion, I nodded off two nights in a row before finding out if a jury of his peers deemed one lying husband responsible for poisoning his wife with antifreeze. And yes, there were Internet searches on this guy's computer for "poison" and "antifreeze."

And because I searched for this story on MY computer, I too have a search for "poison" and "antifreeze." It doesn't LOOK GOOD, I tell you! I can no longer search for these things on my computer; I must STAY AWAKE. I am incriminating myself right and left.

Which leads us to the Case of the Red Stool*.

*By reading further, you acknowledge that there may be Too Much Information included herein:

Tuesday was my husband's birthday and I offered to make him a meal of his request for dinner (with no antifreeze; I swear). He asked for steak and potatoes. We had a few potatoes on hand, but we also had turnips, beets, yams, and some funky orange and purple carrots, thanks to our weekly Organic Veggie Delivery. I decided to make a Roasted Root Vegetable Melange. It turned out yummy. The whole dinner was yummy! A fantastic time was had by all. Happy Birthday, Honey!

But the next morning I was slightly perturbed to find that my Daily Constitutional was...abnormal. By abnormal I mean RED. By RED I mean the color you do not want to see in your toilet.

But I did not panic. I did not freak out. I grew up with parents in medicine after all, and am by now quite used to being told "You're fine!" (even when I had meningitis in the 6th grade--I haven't forgotten that, folks!). I told myself I would investigate the matter further. By, you know, watching and waiting. And, ummm, googling.

Googling? I couldn't very well Google about "Red bowel movements" on my work computer, now could I? These are the things CSIs discover post mortem! And for all I know, maybe even Tech Guys can see me searching "Red stool" while I live and breathe.

No, I decided, I would have to be more clever than that. And anyway, I had a sneaking suspicion about my condition...

Furtively, hopefully, I typed "eating beets" into my Google search bar. I did not even push the "Search" button when the Google Gods read my mind helpfully and offered the following list of options on a drop-down menu:

eating beets stool
eating beets red urine
eating beets urine
eating beets raw
eating beets during pregnancy
eating beets red poop
eating beets turns urine red
eating beets and red stool
eating beets while pregnant

It doesn't take a genius in reading between the lines to discern that it was the beets causing the crimson in my crap.

Relief!

More relief: I don't think that typing "eating beets" without pushing "search" actually counted AS A SEARCH. I am not sure of this.

But here's what I do know: I am going to eat the leftover beets and potatoes for lunch tomorrow. And when the inevitable happens, I won't have to Google shit.

Because I already know.