Food, egg

Jennifer came over today for a few hours and caught me up. Bless her heart. She said, "Wow, you cleaned your floor." I said, "Yes I did. Three times." My kitchen looks like nobody ever made any mess in it. All perfect. Like a little doll house. And I keep walking past this package of remnant tortillas and I keep thinking, "Those look really good."

An egg will work with that.

I'm smellin' ya. This is going to be good.

It is everything that I expected. 

One single bite fully satisfies. One bite makes the effort complete.

And the second bite confirms, yes, this is totally worth it.

And the third bite signals: These bites now are redundant.

The fourth bite signals: Stop this right now.

So I do.

Full stop.

Goodbye. Hate to waste. I'll have you know that your value is great as a big fat honking juicy burrito and I enjoyed every bite except the last one.

+ 1 Imodium. I'll tie my intestines into knots to make sure you don't cause any trouble.

And the tortillas are stale now. The rest must be tossed.

Today I looked at dozens of nearby restaurants online through Grub. The ones that seemed good I opened another window to their page on Yelp. I looked at mostly Asian restaurants. I looked at thousands of photographs of professional food, and honestly, every photograph of food looks like crap. There was only one Thai restaurant with decent photographs put up by the owner. And I almost popped. I was intrigued by their takeout. The way that they packaged the elements to assemble at home. The way they include a huge pile of mint sprigs. 

And the whole time that I'm looking at their piles of mint springs spread across several customer photographs, I realized I could actually root those things, and divide them, and eventually provide the restaurant their full daily requirement of mint springs from the samples they provided with my meal. 

That would be fun. 

"Hey! I got a ton-load of mint here that I grew from your little sprigs."

And then I thought, "Maybe they're already doing that." 

My plan was to order something then force-feed myself but as hours went by I decided that I really wasn't up to that. The afternoon turned to evening turned to night that turned to a new day so I ate an egg on a tortilla and set a plan for the new day. I'll try again. And just order something. And just f'k'n eat it. And chase it with something medically chemically binding.  Lock up my GI tract and force it to process completely. Slow it down and dry it out. 

And thousands of pictures later that gave me a very good impressions of what these places are like, and I'm sitting there thinking, "All these photographs are terrible." I am honestly not hungry for any of this. Nothing. Nothing looks good. I give up. 

So I am back to that plan. New day. Same plan.

I'll try again. I'll look again at what Grub suggests for my area, narrow it down, and I'll search other sources to see what the places are really like, then order something whether or not I am actually hungry for it. Then eat it. 

Then quickly consume something medical to bind it all up. 

Oh man. 

I just now had a flashback.

I just now connected to my six-year-old self.

We share resentments. I am sitting on a chair at the dinner table.

     "You're not leaving this table until you clear your plate." 

I am six years old sitting there thinking, "Fuck me. How am I going to finish this slop?" 

And now here I am sixty-six and I'm thinking the same thing. 

And I haven't even ordered anything yet. Four bites from a burrito and I am not even the slightest bit hungry. This is all a plan for when the sun comes up. It is two in the morning and I am planning for noon.

I am going to buy something. Then eat it. Duh-duh-d-u-u-u-h.