Really. I have to eat between 4 and 4:30, and I know this, what with the frequent standing at the refrigerator shoving stuff in my mouth for a half-hour, literally, between 4 and 4:30, on my days off. Especially when I’m doing physical stuff, like my job, which ends at 5.

So today I’m scrubbing table tops with Comet and covering them with plastic for the next watercolor class, and there’s customers, and it’s getting late and I haven’t done the bathroom or the front room or the books for the day and I still have to sweep and mop the floor and it’s getting later and later and I finally do as much as I can and leave at 5:40 and DON’T stop at a fast food place or the co-op, but just drive home figuring it will be okay for Pete’s sake grow up it won’t kill you to be hungry.

I walk in the door and just drop everything I’m carrying, purse, lunch bag, whatever, clunk. I’m standing in the kitchen bitching about everybody in my life who has ever told me ever I wasn’t doing a good enough job and it really sucks that people aren’t clear about their expectation and they all are bad and horrible people – so many horrible people – while I’m cutting open an avocado which doesn’t twist apart, nor does the pit come out till I cut the half in half and twist the bastard and even then the skin off the pit stays in place, and then it doesn’t peel for god’s sake and finally I take the 10-inch chef’s knife and just whack the shit out of the thing and scrape the innards off with my teeth because damn if I’m not going to eat the stupid stupid piece of fruit just because it thinks it’s all that –

And about half-way through, blood sugars start creeping back up out of the red, and I’m all, “Oh, and how was your day?”

My poor child. Moral? If eating a bag of french fries is all that stands between you and a 10-inch chef’s knife, eat the fries.

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Chinese gardens again. I really want to grow bamboo.

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