There was a moment in my life when I regularly ate at home. I cooked (or cleaned) and there was dinner time and, on the weekends, often breakfast time and lunch time. I still shop like these things are a part of my life, but I recognized last night that they are not. It’s not that I cannot cook (I can) nor that I do not like to cook (I do), it’s more that my brain is constantly occupied with other things to the point where I will forget to eat for the whole day. Yeah, sure I get hunger pangs, but those are easily ignored as distractions to whatever the hell else I’m doing or staved off with an apple or crackers or something minor. I think the last time I actually cooked something at home was when Fiduk and I had our last mandate here, early in June. Granted, I was gone for most of June, but I sure as hell didn’t cook at my parents’ house which is odd since I usually do a lot of cooking there.
And it’s not like I’m eating out a lot, either. I mean, I eat out a couple times a week, but not every day. And I’m not working a lot of nights which would mean that my dinner was bought for me. Awesome job perk, I know. I’m just not eating. So weird.
And why not? It’s not for lack of food. Right now my pantry is amply stocked with pasta, rice, quinoa, crackers, granola, cereal, hot sauce, and a bunch of other crap that usually fills a pantry. My fridge has broccoli, pears, salami, cheese, tortillas, juice, and whatever. I’m not lacking. If it gets empty, I walk over to the grocery store half a block away and buy stuff for it. Done done done.
Yet, when faced with the idea of stopping to make dinner, I often give it a, “meh.” For example, it took serious, conscious thought just to make a stupid sandwich for dinner last night. Why?! It’s the easiest thing in the world. The only thing that made me actually do it was that I knew I had an 1/8th of a pound of pepper turkey in the fridge that needed to be used and that I’ve recently been thinking about my eating habits a lot. Drinking habits too, but that’s another post. A similar thought occurred to me this morning before I left for work: I have yogurt that is going to go bad. I’d better eat.
In the olden days when making dinner was a team effort, I knew I could get away with only doing half of the work. Either I cooked and didn’t clean, or she cooked and I cleaned. It was an equitable arrangement, and one in which I gladly participated. Screw having to cook AND clean though. I’m not into that at all. I guess that’s one barrier, but it’s pretty minor since it’s not an issue with easily prepared meals. And with cast iron. You’re not even supposed to clean that shit.
But what am I doing that’s so important that I neglect to eat? Nothing! Nothing at all! I’m not writing. I’m not posting a lot here. I’m not out taking photos. I’m just losing time into a black hole of doing stuff but not being sure about what I’m doing and then forgetting to eat. What is going on? Does anyone know? I sure as hell don’t.
Help? Does anyone want to be my nutritionist/personal chef? I can’t afford to pay you, but it’ll be real fun, I promise. I also kind of want this book: Two Dudes, One Pan.