If I really cared, I supposed I'd be a little concerned about my eating habits. Last night's dinner was potato chips. The Indian dudes at the convenience store know that when I come in, I'm either there to use the ATM, buy a six-pack of diet coke, or brown bread. Or all three. My home diet really has become that predictable.
And yes I'll go out and have fine food or else a burger and fries that someone else has prepared and that some other person will clean away when I'm done. But when it comes to old fashioned home cooking, all I care to whip up these days is peanut butter on toast or to microwave baked beans. Quick-cooking rice in microwave soup is another culinary gem of my own creation. And it really is as blah as it sounds.
I like to think that it's weather-related and basically mathematical. My lack of motivation to go to a major grocery store, and then to convert those ingredients into something edible is directly proportional to the amount of sun outside. Warm weather = get outside and stay there. Cold weather = hibernate and bake something. When winter creeps in or, as it does in Chicago, slams into me one day without warning, I'll get motivated and make pots of steaming delicious soup, filling the freezer to capacity in the process. We'll be defrosting the fruits of my labour for months to come. Trust me, the same thing happened last winter.
But until then, friends, water crackers smeared with cream cheese of indeterminate age, washed down with Diet Coke, will have to do. Bon appetit!
2 comments:
yuck
It'll all help on the swimmers marathon of weight loss - and you'll revert in winter when the brisk mornings encourage a doona snuggle more than a swim!
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