|Awake, With Eggs
||[Oct. 21st, 2009|06:31 am]
Kelly J. Cooper
I've switched my days & nights around really quite thoroughly this past week.
Monday night, I struggled to wakefulness for hours before finally getting out of bed sometime after 9pm. I watched some TV and, after flipping through a magazine dedicated to organization, my motivation switch got flipped to ON and I rearranged the "dressing" room. (Our bedroom is so small that most of our clothes are in the room across the hall.)
I have a Metroshelf-type wire shelving unit in that room and it had various baskets of laundry on it, but the rearrangement of our bedroom last spring (this past one or the one before... I forget now) caused a pile of boxes to migrate into the dressing room where they were really In The Way.
I pulled half the boxes out of the room, pushed the other half to the BF's side of the room, and pulled the laundry baskets off the shelves and heaved them into the bedroom. Then I put all of the boxes ONTO the shelves, and even squeezed in some random, oddly shaped things in between them. Then I dusted the floor a bit, rearranged some other bits and bobs, brought the three (overfull) laundry baskets back in & walked a HUGE load of laundry down to the kitchen to await my next burst of motivation.
At that point, it was around midnight and the BF called to check in. I lay on the bed to chat, unplugging the phone again after we finished so I wouldn't be caught unawares by the damn creditors in the morning and ultimately fell into an uneasy sleep. It was full of tense dreams involving my not being able to sleep in my own bed or find a damn bathroom or be alone for a minute (sort of ironic since I was practically drowning in loneliness with the BF traveling) and ultimately I awoke around 5:30am and dragged myself out of bed.
By this point I hadn't eaten since... um... Sunday night, so I decided to scramble some eggs. The trick with scrambling two eggs just for yourself is to NOT overdo it with ingredients - just a pinch of basil, a shake of paprika, and just a little bit of cheddar is enough. Of course, I used too much cheddar. Oh well.
As I was cooking I realized that my cooking paralysis was gone. Evaporated. The eggs were terrible and all I had to make toast with were slices from the crappy white bread the BF likes. But I had gathered and prepared the ingredients, I had cooked the eggs, I had made the toast, all without freaking out, and even though I was wishing the whole time for the creamy golden curds I'd had in Lyon back in May, these were MY damn eggs.
Tonight (well, last night, Tuesday evening) I cooked a new recipe: arugula stemmed & chopped, then wilted in garlic and red pepper flakes; half a pound of cooked spaghetti thrown in with 1/2 a cup of ricotta and a generous shake of grated pecorino Romano, plus fresh ground sea salt & pepper. Amusingly enough, it was terrible in a very boring way, and only made reasonable by the addition of a pint of tiny tomatoes (the mixed set of which I'd retrieved from our farmshare the previous week) sliced in halves and quarters for easier consumption and mixed in.
I'd been trying to make this recipe for 6 days and I finally made it and it was terrible. It's almost funny. But I made it without too much running around the kitchen, trying to figure out which ingredients to take out of the fridge first or which pots or pans to use. No panic attacks in front of the sink. Progress!
I keep wondering if I'm rewiring my brain or if it just gets overloaded with the anti-depression drugs and the thinking and the body stuff and needs to cool off before agreeing to shift into gear.