Sam and I went to Redbones as soon as I got in last night, and in a very rare occurrence, I honestly didn’t enjoy it. It took me half the meal and the realization that my salmon had been undercooked to figure it out, but the meal was just unsatisfying on a very core level. I didn’t really want to eat out last night. I would have been happiest going home and making a light meal out of a salad and the remains of the soup I made last week. Of course as soon as this idea hit, I fell into “food freak” mode, and just couldn’t stop thinking about the damage I had done to my body during the day. I sat there looking at our meals contemplating the quasi-toxins we were loading up on and feeling guilty.

Bleh.

It hit me that I had agreed to go out so readily because I felt guilty and embarrassed over her saying that there was no food in the house. Granted, my supplies are a little on the spare side, but there is enough that I can conceive of living on it for the next couple of weeks (with some obvious supplements). My lifestyle has become increasingly Spartan, and while I recognize that it’s necessary on some level, it still strikes me as a weakness when I’m confronted with it. Not her fault… it’s all just personal demons and misplaced promises to myself that brought all this on. Sam was good enough to let me stomp and rage and was still able to laugh with me throughout the evening.

I had more weird dreams last night, including the seemingly ubiquitous but terribly disturbing “not prepared for school” dreams which have plagued me for the past year.

All out of sorts this morning.