BREAD.
I. Need. Bread.
Seriously, it's been a long time since I've had any bread, and bread owns. I keep missing out on the time when I could purchase bread, or just being too lazy to go get it. Plus, buying things is lame. So in 5 days when I go home, I'm getting some bread. And I'm bringing some back with me. I have half a jar of peanutbutter and nothing to eat it with. It taunts me. I want to eat it, but no. Every 10 minutes I state loudly my need for and lack of bread, which I'm sure annoys Adam by now and that's always a good reason to keep doing something.
It's pathetic to be so addicted to sports that you watch a televised HIGH SCHOOL basketball game. Seriously, what is that? I'm hiding the remote from him. There's nothing more annoying than the sound of squeaking sneakers, retarded fans, and overactive sports announcers in the background while I'm trying to do... anything at all. Or nothing at all. Either way, it makes me want to practice some form of deadly martial arts that I have no training or understanding of, focusing on everything that isn't nailed down. Beginning with fleshy bipeds.
But about that bread, it reminds me that there is quite a multitude of food that I don't get the chance to have up in my isolated bubble on the third floor of a building perched atop a giant hill. Other foods make it on to my list of cravings, but that damned peanut butter is taunting me. Need crackers. Need bread. Need bagels. Bagels I can indeed get, but they come with cream cheese which is paramount since I enjoy it more, especially on bagels, and the peanut butter will not go bad. Or at least it will take much longer. I've had this jar of peanut butter since late August. It's still good and I'll kill any man who says otherwise.
Sometimes I miss my family and life at home, something I didn't think would ever really bother me. Usually it comes after or with some sense of nostalgia that I get through something or another. The only childhood that mattered to me occurred outside of school and most of that was spent at my house, or at the houses of a few other people that were acceptable human beings. Of course, now I want to be home even more than before because of a sort of a form of an extension of my immediate family that lives in Delaware. And this extension has promised me home made biscuits on top of a great variety of other things. The South isn't so bad after all, it would seem. Half of my blood is traced back south of the mason dixon before being traced back to Europe, and this biscuit making jewel spent most of her childhood there. And the yield is a love of buscuits coupled with biscuit making abilities. God, life is awesome.
Seriously, it's been a long time since I've had any bread, and bread owns. I keep missing out on the time when I could purchase bread, or just being too lazy to go get it. Plus, buying things is lame. So in 5 days when I go home, I'm getting some bread. And I'm bringing some back with me. I have half a jar of peanutbutter and nothing to eat it with. It taunts me. I want to eat it, but no. Every 10 minutes I state loudly my need for and lack of bread, which I'm sure annoys Adam by now and that's always a good reason to keep doing something.
It's pathetic to be so addicted to sports that you watch a televised HIGH SCHOOL basketball game. Seriously, what is that? I'm hiding the remote from him. There's nothing more annoying than the sound of squeaking sneakers, retarded fans, and overactive sports announcers in the background while I'm trying to do... anything at all. Or nothing at all. Either way, it makes me want to practice some form of deadly martial arts that I have no training or understanding of, focusing on everything that isn't nailed down. Beginning with fleshy bipeds.
But about that bread, it reminds me that there is quite a multitude of food that I don't get the chance to have up in my isolated bubble on the third floor of a building perched atop a giant hill. Other foods make it on to my list of cravings, but that damned peanut butter is taunting me. Need crackers. Need bread. Need bagels. Bagels I can indeed get, but they come with cream cheese which is paramount since I enjoy it more, especially on bagels, and the peanut butter will not go bad. Or at least it will take much longer. I've had this jar of peanut butter since late August. It's still good and I'll kill any man who says otherwise.
Sometimes I miss my family and life at home, something I didn't think would ever really bother me. Usually it comes after or with some sense of nostalgia that I get through something or another. The only childhood that mattered to me occurred outside of school and most of that was spent at my house, or at the houses of a few other people that were acceptable human beings. Of course, now I want to be home even more than before because of a sort of a form of an extension of my immediate family that lives in Delaware. And this extension has promised me home made biscuits on top of a great variety of other things. The South isn't so bad after all, it would seem. Half of my blood is traced back south of the mason dixon before being traced back to Europe, and this biscuit making jewel spent most of her childhood there. And the yield is a love of buscuits coupled with biscuit making abilities. God, life is awesome.