I woke up around midnight Tuesday to the sound of Tommy being up. I assumed he was getting food or something, as I had known him to do, but instead, he came into our room. I was initially irritated that he didn't knock, but he thought we were asleep, which makes sense. I felt terrible about the irritation once he shared how sick he felt. I got up, and we sat in the living room as he described symptoms of abdominal pains. He asked if I could take him to Urgent Care, and I said yes. We went, it was closed, and as we drove and talked, it sounded like something stomach related. He's had issues over the past few months like this, and my gut (no pun intended) suspected some persistent stomach bug or other intestinal problems. He had me pull over on the way, but we found some meds, and he felt awful all night. I had little sleep. I've taken on the aggressive stance of enforcing time tracking at work, and I'm angry that people still don't get it. Angry. I should not have to ask twice, but each time I do, it's getting terse and direct. Do your fucking job. I'm doing mine. Last night I went to Harbor Freight for an air compressor and Costco for various things. I picked up steaks tonight, seasoned and sealed for future sous vide. I'd also picked up macadamia nuts for Tommy, but shortly after eating them, he had the stomach issues return. It seems that's a common link, as it's tied to Tuesday night too. So those are off the menu for the foreseeable future. He's been fantastic lately, and my engagement to help him sent a good message. He reorganized the tools after I asked him, and even though it took multiple days and asks, it was more than I expected. Of course, the night went south when I got called names for saying that I didn't want to deal with his complaints about the tools and garage usage. He can't stop and see anything beyond his point of view and how anything affects him. Like mother like son.