(no subject)
I have started noting a side effect of Broke-Ass Disease: not-eating. When the wallet, it sickens, my appetite has a sympathetic lack-of-desire-for-food.
[Let me just add that smelling Emergen-C in the air -- that, or the chronic rot lingering in the depths of the dysfunctional ventilation system -- well, chalk and rotting peaches helps suppress that gnawing hunger, but the dizzy, it does not dissipate.]
Oh, and the roommate being a constant fixture out in the living room doesn't help, for some reason. Maybe it's my social overload exacerbated by sleep dep, excess caffeine and not-eating, but...
Or maybe I'm just really fucking lazy. I hate preparing food. You know why I don't eat chicken? Work. It takes work. Steak? Marinade, broil, snarf. Soup? Microzap and snarf. Chips and dip? No cooking at all, usually. Straight to the snarfing.
And when I've got broke-ass, I can't get no mo' easy-snarf. *sigh*
So, while my laundry progresses (with aching, painful slowness) at my mother's, I can go to Tarzhay for the necessities (batteries for 'mote, hand soap, more dish scrubbies, cat fud), plus TJ's for the easy-snarf. The fact that she has no real snarfage there, part of the problem. And by the time I get home, I don't care so much about the eating. Or not-eating.
Bottom line: Food is work. Why can't I eat by osmosis?
Last thought: Being a vampire almost sounds appealing, except for that hunting bit. But, you know, "Happy Meals with legs," right? Oh, bother.
Osmosis is much more amenable to sloth anyhow.
[Let me just add that smelling Emergen-C in the air -- that, or the chronic rot lingering in the depths of the dysfunctional ventilation system -- well, chalk and rotting peaches helps suppress that gnawing hunger, but the dizzy, it does not dissipate.]
Oh, and the roommate being a constant fixture out in the living room doesn't help, for some reason. Maybe it's my social overload exacerbated by sleep dep, excess caffeine and not-eating, but...
Or maybe I'm just really fucking lazy. I hate preparing food. You know why I don't eat chicken? Work. It takes work. Steak? Marinade, broil, snarf. Soup? Microzap and snarf. Chips and dip? No cooking at all, usually. Straight to the snarfing.
And when I've got broke-ass, I can't get no mo' easy-snarf. *sigh*
So, while my laundry progresses (with aching, painful slowness) at my mother's, I can go to Tarzhay for the necessities (batteries for 'mote, hand soap, more dish scrubbies, cat fud), plus TJ's for the easy-snarf. The fact that she has no real snarfage there, part of the problem. And by the time I get home, I don't care so much about the eating. Or not-eating.
Bottom line: Food is work. Why can't I eat by osmosis?
Last thought: Being a vampire almost sounds appealing, except for that hunting bit. But, you know, "Happy Meals with legs," right? Oh, bother.
Osmosis is much more amenable to sloth anyhow.