I thought that a sunny Sunday was the perfect time to share with you a little more of my own personal madness. That is not to say that this madness is mine alone it is, I am sure, shared by many more but it is also mine.
For reasons that I cannot explain or even identify I am in food rage at the moment and have been for a number of weeks. I wrote recently about this phenomenon and this weekend has done nothing more than provide further examples of my own special madness. I started Saturday with the intention of purchasing something to cook later in the day when staff were working, obviously this failed completely and instead I had a single piece of toast whilst doing some paperwork.
After a long and busy Saturday the pub quietened off and it was clear that I would be closing at 11 pm which gave me an opportunity for a take away. Out came the menus and I considered the option of Chinese or pizza (I never eat take away Indian). I planned various options, all of which were available and could be with me in twenty minutes but then it went wrong. I started to think of the oil stains in the pizza box or the Chinese container and the bloated feeling before going to bed, not good at all. To hammer the final nail home on that plan I returned to the thought of dining, a take away for one, to be eaten alone, probably whilst working, how sad is that? Not for me the embarrassment of a solitary take away just so that I can relieve a local retailer of his fat laden food, oh no I’m better than that.
So it was that at midnight last night, having finished for the evening, I sat with a glass of Shiraz (my first drink of the day) and a slice of toast. Obviously the Shiraz was chosen to compliment the bitter notes of the Marmite that adorned the toast. This was eaten in front of the computer whilst doing yet more paperwork which helped to distract me from the butter soaking into the toast. I ate quickly enough that the butter didn’t have a chance to drip, if it had the remainder would have been consigned to the trash, but not so quickly as to be conscious of the activity which also risked bringing it to a premature ending.
I woke up this morning feeling exhausted, despite a good nights sleep, and with screaming pain from my shoulder. Having made my way out of bed my knee decided that it wasn’t going to play nicely either and I narrowly avoided a collapse down the stairs. A voice in my head, which sounded very similar to Jo’s, told me that I need to eat better and so begun today. First stop the grocery store for:
- Bacon – but it’s really just salt-laden junk isn’t it?
- Eggs – I wouldn’t need more than one and frying is such a hassle
- Pizza – But think of the pools of oil on top when they are oven cooked
- Sausages –Nearly there but it’s just a load of fat that I don’t need isn’t it?
- Pasta sauce – All sugar and tasteless
And so, you probably guessed this, I returned empty-handed completely bereft of any goods. It is not just that I returned empty-handed though it is the anger that food engenders in me when I am in this frame of mind. Even if I had purchased one of the items that I had considered on the basis that it would be available later I know that I would have had a tantrum whilst it was cooking and discarded the lot untouched. If anything lack of time has made me more efficient in that I no longer mess about cooking what I know I will discard and therefore save the time and energy, go me I am environmentally friendly.
The weird thing, and it is here that people struggle to understand me, is that I know that this is a temporary period. As I have explained previously I do not ever have a good relationship with food but it does improve. I have no idea why I get so mardy about food but I know that it has been for as long as I can remember.
So there you go that, people, is today’s brief glimpse of madness.