I guess I'll start the caffeine detox week again tomorrow. I mean, I did say I was going to, and I hate to welsh out on something I announced on the blog. And it's true, there's not much point in continuing to blow $3.15 a day on iced lattes if they're not thrusting me into the illustrated pages of a Lewis Carroll book the way they used to. It's not even 2 hours since I drank my last one and I already feel kind of sluggish again, even though I'm not sleep-deprived or malnourished or overly depressed over the fact that 7th Heaven and Charmed are somehow still on the air. So, with much deja vu, after today I will say goodbye iced lattes, goodbye diet Pepsi, and goodbye all other caffeinated products, until we shall meet again in half a fortnight's time. Or something.
I'm cooking now. There's only so long you can keep up a diet of microwaveable Trader Joe's products without going crazy. Plus, I'm tired of feeling inferior to people who make their own stuff. Am I not capable of doing all that on my own? Well, I'm not really sure yet. But like a lot of things in life, I think interest and willingness make a lot more difference than innate ability. At least I hope that's true. If I end up being a complete failure as a chef with nothing to show for my efforts but scarred hands and intestinal damage, then I'll re-evaluate that thought a little.
In a callback to the unemployment blog, the termites came back (briefly) last weekend. They started popping in under the sliding glass door to the balcony, but eventually backed off when they realized that I was actually willing to sit there and kill every single one of them individually until they had to call up the Strategic Reserves for reinforcements. Or maybe they were worried that I was going to bring in another Stuart. Because I wouldn't hesitate to do so, and this time I'd make sure he actually ate some of them.