It seems that a surefire way to keep from eating is to cook dinner. I made some asparagus with brown butter balsamic sauce, had a few bites and am done. I even put it on a bed of brown rice and ended up just eating the asparagus. It’s strange how my tastes have evolved. I wouldn’t be caught dead doing that five years ago…well, maybe more like seven. My ex somehow got broccoli to pass my lips and I grudgingly discovered that I liked it.
My Fruitpie is coming home tomorrow and I’m so excited to see her. I still have a lot of work to do around the house, but I can’t wait to have her in my arms. It didn’t feel as quiet this time, and I’m sure that’s because D was here making noise. It was just a few long lonely nights, dreaming about my girl and counting the hours until I can be with her again. Our five year wedding anniversary is in a few days. It seems so strange how the years have flown by. Five years feels like nothing really. Maybe it’s just a sign of getting older.
I was cleaning the kitchen earlier and looking for one of my favorite utensils. I finally found it on the bottom rack of the goddamn dishwasher and yelled to nobody something my mother used to say. I don’t remember what it was, but I do remember the chill that shot down my spine when my mother’s voice left my lips. When and how did this happen? I was furious for a few minutes and I had to calm myself down…it’s just a utensil. My favorite goddamn utensil, but a utensil nonetheless. I just cannot fathom how anyone would think it was a good idea to repeatedly (REPEATEDLY) put something with a wooden handle in the dishwasher?
