I'm fairly certain that in a past life I starved my way through the Depression -- I cannot stand not knowing what my next meal is going to be, and when I don't know, I start hoarding. For example, today I didn't have time to go the grocery store before my one-afternoon/evening-a-week job, where I usually eat dinner and approximately fifteen snacks during my seven-hour shift. In a panic, I ransacked our cupboards, packed the following in my little hobo satchel and tied it to my walking stick, tucked a sharpened screwdriver in my pocket for protection, and hopped a boxcar to work:
1. A jar of salsa
2. A bag of corn chips
3. Three different kinds of cheese (two for snacking, one for salad)
4. Two different kinds of nuts (almonds for snacking, walnuts for salad)
5. A bag of lettuce (I almost took a bag of lettuce and a bag of arugula, but at the last minute decided this was excessive)
6. A jar of salad dressing
7. Two hard-boiled eggs
8. A bunch of carrots
9. A chocolate bar
Now, finished with work and well fed, I'm going to build a fire in a tin can and ride the rails into the sunset. By which I mean, pour myself a glass of pink wine and watch some trashy TV before bed.
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Speaking of riding the rails into the sunset, I am going to do everything in my power between now and Thursday night to steer toward the Real Housewives of Atlanta. I just realized I might be more excited about the premiere of season two than anything else this summer--shamefully, so much so that I almost created an alias to publish this comment. Am I redeemed if I exercise while I watch?
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