Between Ovens and TP

Recently I realized that I did not want to touch my oven, possibly, ever again. I noticed this as my lifeless hand let my fork fall limp. I was starving earlier that day—during my Wednesday 11:00-1:45 classes, then I went home and fixed a meal. Between eating it and looking at it, I lacked even an inkling of interest. I was bored.

I woke up yesterday with an epiphany. It was a mildly costly cure to my problem but I knew it was the necessary revival for my lackluster lunches—the perfect cookbook. I went about my daily routine and tried to not be distracted by my plan. The moment I got out of class, I would buy it. I was on a mission.

Well, I got a little distracted at first. As soon as I got to the shops, the thought of new clothes (ooh, shiny…) was more alluring than a stupid book. But as soon as I got that out of my system—Tim showed up. Tim, aka Distraction #2, walks into the clothing store as I stood at the register. Like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs, I was confused at first by seeing my fiance somewhere I hadn't planned on being and hadn't told him I was shopping. The beauty of Tweeting (and being familiar with someone enough that he can piece together ambiguous posts) is being completely surprised when someone finds me. Life becomes a big game of Hide and Seek. Being found yesterday had a fabulous reward system: a free meal. Tim dragged me out to lunch—poor me.

I ate mussels at the restaurant. They were slightly more interesting than my pathetic homemade meals had become but effectively drew my attention back to my need. If there were formerly any doubt in my mind about needing a cookbook, each bite dispelled it. The mussels were perfectly fine, just lacking in that one factor I was determined to seek and conquer.

Tunnel vision set, I made my way to the cookbook section in the bookstore. However, there was a rumble in the pit of my stomach. I was too stubborn to acknowledge its existence (in hopes it would disappear) and went examining covers. I looked them up and down for a while (because no lukewarm recipe would make its way into my home) until I saw the one, Cooking for Two. I was touched! I am two… or at least I will be. And I definitely already cook evening meals for two. It was so romantic. I knew I had to take it home and play house with Timmy.

Then I took it to the bathroom with me—I needed reading material.