random thoughts – Day 1,819 – (Monday) – cinnamon toast and longing

Yes, there was a grocery store trip yesterday with a list in hand. And this morning, as I began brewing the coffee, I realized the item that was overlooked. It was the very first item on the list, crunchy oat and honey granola bars, which I eat nearly every morning for breakfast. Un-frigging-believable. Ok, not really. It’s totally-frigging-believable.

Cinnamon toast
and coffee.

The absence of granola bars in the cabinet, a situation in effect since the middle of last week, forced a shift in the menu. Bread was bought during the trip, so the backup was cinnamon toast. As a kid, cinnamon toast was my favorite breakfast, except for maybe Cocoa Crispies, which were a rarity in our cereal cabinet, probably because I would eat them all immediately.

I don’t even know if cinnamon toast was a childhood special treat because we kids had been behaving or if it was the backup because we ran out of cereal or milk or the dreaded and disgusting powered milk that was hauled out when the budget was extra lean. Whatever the reason, it was rare and felt special. 

As a fully grown adult usually in possession of all the ingredients for cinnamon toast, it is still a rare breakfast. Sadly, grown-up cinnamon toast isn’t quite as special as when I was a kid, and oddly, the dry, hard, crunchy granola bars are the current top breakfast choice. 

Souped-up soup.

Today was another of those days where food was the glue holding me together. Lunch was the veggie soup from the other day, souped-up with broccoli, mushrooms, and the last splash of the half-and-half from the opened container. Mint Milano cookies were interspersed throughout the day, with a side of “I can skip supper” to ease the cookie calorie guilt. 

Then, just as work was ending, I saw a headline about the stock market tanking. Here I am, mere months from joblessness, watching the value of my 401k evaporate like the steam rising from my lunchtime soup. 

There are not enough Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrots to express my angst. So, there was some suppertime anger eating. At least it was on the healthy-ish side, with roasted chicken, plus leftover fries from Sunday’s burger, and mayo mixed with Cajun hot sauce. And the rest of the bag of cookies because stress overeating is the go-to lately. Damn, I long for the olden days of my 30s and 40s when stress made me exercise like a maniac and forget to eat. Also the days when I was a kid and didn't read the news. Seriously. WTF.