Com-misery

Today I was haunted by the ghosts of dinners past, walking through the busy commissary with a tote bag on my shoulder. The last week Theseus and I were at home, I was spoiled - lavish breakfasts served after I slept in, followed by extravagent dinners in the evening. I enjoyed breakfast quesadillas with mango salsa, and raspberry cider glazed tofu. So far this week I've eaten a few tofu hot dogs, several handfuls of sour grape Frooties, a mostly brown banana, two chocolate cupcakes with homemade strawberry frosting, a string cheese, and some spicy tomato juice. Makes your mouth water, right??
    

Dinner is now an immediate concern, a daily emergency. I panic. If I don't have something expressly in mind and purchase those exact items, there is no oh, I'll just throw something together when I get home, there won't be anything to eat. Shopping for one is hard enough, but what to do when that one can't cook? You eat tofu hot dogs three nights in a row. Tonight I'm having strawberries and another string cheese.

It makes me realize how much Theseus is responsible for my basic desire for food. Nothing sounds good, at least not anything I can make. His wizardry in the kitchen leaves me in awe, and completely helpless. Where do I even begin? I defile his temple with my microwaved tofu hot dogs.

The day wasn't a complete disaster. I finally forced myself to walk over to the education center - in the rain! - to get the process started for college in the fall. The thought is terrifying (the entire day was terrifying, now that I think of it), but I've pushed it off long enough. And the timing is so right, I can't turn away from it this time.

I also bought a giant bottle of wine. Speaking of...

- Antiope