My attempts to live healthy lasted until we started to take the kitchen out. It is seriously hard to choose healthy over easy while standing in your dining room looking at all your kitchen stuff in boxes, or stacked on the folding table, or shoved on the floor. It’s hard to concoct a meal out of the frozen items in the fridge that’s living next door behind the plastic door we’ve fashioned to keep out the dust from the partially demolished kitchen. Or a meal made from the sorry remnants of the pantry, the items I thought were once a good idea while standing starving in the grocery store aisle. I no longer can cook the tins of soup unless I try to in the wonky microwave - the microwave that will sometime choose to heat things with the fire of seventeen suns if it heats things at all. I cannot bake the box of blueberry muffins – not that the oven would bake them, unless you consider burned to charcoal on one side baked. I do have the fixings for s’mores but that doesn’t make a meal healthy and 7am is too early to start a fire in the fire pit. Which leaves me with a packet of miso soup or packages of seaweed.
For breakfast. Ugh.
I spent far too long this morning trying to make my cup of tea. Husband had snagged the extension cord we’d be using for all the electrical appliances to power the fridge. (Yes mom, we were only using one at a time.) I found another cord but it was three prongs and the outlets in the living room were only two prongs so a hunt for a three-prong adapter followed by a hunt for an outlet. There is, for your information, only one outlet in the dining room. One lone outlet supposed to serve the whole dining room. One stupid over-painted outlet that didn’t even work because, we learned yesterday, some sort of creature ate through it.
This meant the outlet we were using in the Good Room next door was supposed to power the hot water pot, the toaster, the microwave, and the toaster oven. (Again Mom, only one at a time.) Of the three other outlets in the Good Room, one was occupied by the piano humidifier-which I never knew was a thing till we moved here. One outlet held a security camera and the useless light from Ikea that looked great in our last house and now looks like we’re camping. And the final one was housing another security camera and the Wi-Fi booster. It took me ten minutes of moving the damn cord around the room, all the while trying not to let it lie on the Good Room couch or rug or floor because it was last used in the dirt to power my rototiller and, after all that, I ended up on the same outlet as the fridge. (Sorry mom. I tried.)
Meanwhile, Tigger the Dog was freaking out at my growing angst and the increasing volley of cuss words coming out of my mouth. She started to “help” the situation by winding herself around my legs, two ‘babies’ in her mouth, her panic whine increasing in volume at the same rate as my cursing. Keep in mind while you visualize this that I’m carrying a dirty twenty-five-foot extension cord that is slowly unwinding from its perfect looped state. So, an 80lb anxiety ridden dog attempting to follow my unclear manic path across the Good Room floor resulted in me tripping over her, stepping on her tail, falling onto the couch and hitting myself in the face with the end of the cord -really not how I wanted to spend the first few moments of my morning.
Breakfast this morning was a cup of tea, half a bag of Doritos from yesterday’s lunch and a bruise on my face.
Doritos have corn in them and tea is from a plant. It’s going to have to count as a win. I really need one right now.
My name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me