impatient white mice
I feel restless and ready to go. I think there's so many variables in how things play out in the next months, that I'm feeling a bit uncomfortable with my lack of control. I'm trying to let it go, but it's hard. I'm trying to cut out the booze or keep it contained to the occasional weekend glass of wine or gin & tonic (now that the weather's nice) but as a substitute I find myself eating more sugar. It's like crack to me, I literally can't get enough and would sell my baby for a fix if I had a baby to sell. My current favorite source of the white stuff comes from these little fluffy, soft gummi mice. They're kind of gross because they remind me of the little pinkies I had to feed a ball python I once pet-sat. Subsequently, I can't help but think of myself as a predator when I eat them, which is both wholly satisfying and mildly discerning. But I'm not finicky really, if I don't have the mice to eat, I will eat anything else containing sugar, even things I typically don't go for, like kinderschokoladen, a chocolate stick with a creamy white filling, which is so sweet it makes my teeth ache after eating one. I guess I'll have to kick the sugar sooner or later before I get the "Sugar Blues" (incidentally, a really good, albeit hippy-dippy, book about the evils of processed sugar).
