Last week I was late for all three client lunches. On the other two days, my colleagues weren't ready to eat till around 2pm and so I was hungry a lot of the time. (I don't eat breakfast.) At some point, I was so hungry that I felt sick, giddy, irritable, weak. I couldn't wait to eat something, anything, the first thing that I could seize. At Les Amis I ate two rolls (and huge lashings of butter) before I could even study the menu without the words swimming around like a front-loading washing machine on spin dry. I love butter. Les Amis is one of those places that still think it still fashionable to serve olive oil but some of the food is good.
I had to eat. I needed food.
Last week I also decided that I couldn't make anymore excuses and went back to the gym. It was the first time - after a year of dinners and events and friends and travel and work and rest and stuff like that. And so I nearly died. My body seemed in revolt. It didn't want to exercise. It wanted to lie down, curl into a ball and go into a deep sleep for the rest of the decade.
and that's just one of those things that make me think that god is cruel.
God never ever makes me want what is good for me.
I never love those I should.
I haven't said sorry to so and so.
I haven't filed my income tax.
I have not picked up my dry cleaning for a year.
But. I always desperately want to eat lunch.