It's official, I have Pandemic Ennui. I don't see many people and even if I did, I'm tired of the effort of existing. I did a comic about how we have nobody to talk to and it's like talking to balloons (I have ennui about zoom too) and here it is (it's good to have illustrations, right?). Here's the thing. I don't want to eat anymore. That is to say, I don't want to make the effort to feed myself. I'm unwilling. I'm not sure I've ever had had much going on in the way of kitchen motivation, but knowing I could run out for California roll, a burrito (not here in MA) or get some fabulous empanadas (why does this come up as misspelled?) or some fish and chips or some Japanese food, or ....(I could keep going but it's only going to make me more sad) could help me get through each day avoiding the dreaded task of having to cook for myself. I love take-out. I really do. Living where I live now, in the boonies, there are slim pickings on where to get food. Nobody eats in, of course. I miss those days of ordering chicken parm and a really good IPA and squirreling myself into a little bar corner and reading while eating (which is, oh-my-god my favorite thing to do). Okay, let me get to the point. I found a way to exist: Survival by Frittatas! Even I can cook them and the miracle of Dr. Praeger's spinach cakes, which come frozen like little hockey pucks, and eggs (they have to be jumbo eggs-take my word for it) will get you from one day to the next. I don't have a microwave (I know, I know) but you can fry pan those hockey pucks in olive oil (it sounds like it's out of my grasp but I can do it) and then chop them up and throw the eggs in and turn up the heat and voila! Even I can make a meal I'm willing to eat. The fact that I have this day after day is not as alarming as a former husband who had tuna sandwiches for lunch EVERY day but it may be, could be getting close.
[* visit me on @coastalwrite *]
C. D. Finley
Opinionated, wry, sometimes corny, observational humor mostly about writing, but you never know.