The thing about cooking that is so helpful to my psyche is letting go of the big picture and zooming in to the task at hand.
I quit drinking again six months ago when I started spending time with someone who does not enjoy the happy liquid brain refreshment of booze.
The new minimal me isn’t suffering with less and making do with junk. I love my streamlined life. The utilitarian simplicity gives me focus.
I used to have a bank account with money in it and now I see it’s like a leaky bucket with money dripping out the bottom. I’m being plucked.
Maybe it was the caffeine, but my inner prism caught the sun, a rainbow arched through my chest, and my heart tap danced. I’m doing okay, I thought.
I’m stuck in a surreal bending of time. My calendar is empty for the rest of my life, or at least until this situation sorts itself out, which I now realize could be many months. I shudder and focus on the things I can control, like setting the microwave for Continue Reading
I’m cooking a lot, eating three meals a day at home, mostly rice and beans. My taste buds are bored, but my intestines are thrilled. This is my new normal.