Now I have a fridge in my apartment, and a stove. They're plugged in. They work. I cooked eggs this morning. Sunny side up. Except that they weren't so sunny, more like a total disaster of overcookedness. Turns out I don't have a spatula or hot pads. And since I have gone to the hardware store so many times they know my name, I was quite dismayed to discover I'm still missing dish soap, paper towels, scrubbers, and a supply of toilet paper. There's dust all over the floor. The walls are dirty and unpainted. You can't really walk anywhere in the living room because the floor is covered in coat hangers, shoes, books, dirty clothes, newspapers, bubble wrap etc. I have very little furniture to my name.
One thing we can be sure of is that I have A LOT of cookbooks for a single 23 year-old lady. Not 50, but at least 20, plus my small collection of food magazines. And in a couple days the kitchen will be painted and I can buy some lovely simple things like rock fish, green beans, corn and potatoes, cook it all up, make a little chile sauce for the corn, sit down, and breathe . Because when I don't, life is an endless stream of adrenaline; I lose myself in a whirlwind world of madness. I like getting things done, fast, efficiently. But I think I could use a bit more time, right now, to eat.