I had lunch with my older brother yesterday. I was really looking forward to eating something...well....decadent. I wanted a huge burger and fries. Or a patty-melt. Something soaking in grease or smothered with gravy. My brother chose the meat-loaf special. I didn't because I actually had some cold meat-loaf in the fridge. I went with the beef stew or biscuits. Obviously, I got some left-over stew micro-waved to the luke-warm consistency of flour paste. It had an abundance of peas and a shortage of beef. This gelatinous beige mixture was covering a couple of hockey pucks masquerading as biscuits. I had to use the butter knife to cut them into edible pieces. And here is the sad part. I actually finished it. I didn't enjoy even one bite. Last night I under-cooked some brussel sprouts and they were hard and bitter. I ate them all. At some point I am going to have to stop doing things I don't want to do. I should also stop doing things I THINK I want to do even though while doing those things I am not enjoying doing them. I don't even understand that and I swear I am totally sober. I need to get out of town.