I made it to the afternoon, today, without even thinking about what unsavory item I would eat today. And when I did think about it, it made me cringe. I was already feeling glum, possibly owing to the rain and my stupid decision to listen to only low-tempo, melancholy music on the drive into Spokane, and the fact that I've been working so hard and so much, and maybe some hormones to boot. Whatever it was, I couldn't imagine that eating the clam chowder I've had sitting in my cabinet for weeks would do anything but make it worse. And while my incredible hesitation to eat the stuff should have been my reason for doing so, I instead headed to the grocery store. I thought I would buy a plum.
Every plum or peach in the place was nearly mush. It's not yet spring, I know, I know. So I thought, I'll find some other fish thing that I know I can handle. But if I know I can handle it, then that's cheating isn't it? So I wandered the store, wishing I didn't like bacon or sausage or nacho cheese. I wanted something mid-level, something I don't like, but that wouldn't give me lockjaw when confronted with a spoonful. On the way to the store, I'd passed the local Italian restaurant and discovered they had lamb tongue and octopus on their menu, but I was in no mood to eat at a restaurant alone. I put that one in my back pocket for later. But as I wandered the store, picking up and putting down things I longed to eat but shouldn't, I found myself blocked.
Until I remembered. I had apple pie in my freezer. Purchased last week for just such an occasion. I rushed home and got it in the oven, meanwhile making myself a happy dinner of grilled ham and cheese. When it was done baking, I even had the patience to let the thing cool. That's one of the benefits of eating food that doesn't make you drool.
I think part of my reason for hating apple pie is that my brother likes it so much. He always requested it for his birthday instead of cake, and part of me suspected it was to spite me. Or maybe I don't like apple pie because it's slimy. Or that the apples get mushy. Or that I haven't had the right kind. Whatever. I wouldn't expect a frozen pastry to overcome these expectations, but I have to say it was kind of nice. Maybe it was my stressed-out body calling for sugar and being answered in the form of apples. Maybe it was that factory-made pies are more consistent than homemade ones (sorry, home pie-makers--maybe that's not 100% true). Maybe I'm a grown-up now, I don't know. But the apple pie was fine. Fairly pleasant, even. I didn't eat the whole thing, but it was kind of a two-person dish. If only my hubby had been here to share it. I'll probably bring the remainder home tomorrow, and he can have it for dessert.
Maybe I'll eat the clam chowder tomorrow.