I ate my salad within sight of the reference desk in case anybody needed anything because I’m the only grown up in the library today and that is just bonkers. You know, when I eat salad instead of a cheeseburger I am less likely to crave a donut. It’s just true. And not that I have some moral qualm about eating a donut, but I do want to weigh less so running is easier. So I ate my salad and thought about running, really happy with my mileage this week, up to 26 miles, 5-2-5-10-4, that last four tomorrow morning at a race. Solid numbers. I want more of them.

I was so out of it by the time I got back home from my run, ten miles is feeling like a lot these days, and I didn’t start until 11am which meant pretty much missing a meal and a half. I showered and then got into bed and waited for K. to finish her Skype meeting, I thought she was in the kitchen. It turned out she’d been at her desk the whole time but it was a convenient excuse to keep myself pinned to the bed for half an hour, a good position from which to beg her to make me a salad for lunch. Which she did, and then I ate it, and eating food perked me right back. I’m a desert plant.

By the time I got around to getting lunch it was three and I had this free-fries coupon burning a hole in my wallet so stepped out and had a cheeseburger and fries and I can’t lie, it was the best thing to happen to me all week.

K.’s gone. She’s the person who gets the food from the store and puts it into the refrigerator. Without her, I’m so hungry. Amazing how fast I can learn helplessness. So I thawed a dish of chili and boasted about it, K., it’s like I’m cleaning out the freezer!

K. keeps me in foods, it turns out, so there I was at the end of my refdesk shift and Smashburger was the best option and it was delicious. For some reason we all got tons of coupons for free fries. Guess I have to go back tomorrow.

I ate reheated chili in my office watching the Tigers game on the weird MLB gameday thing, so excited for O. and what an exciting time he’s having at opening day. His pleasure is usually not my organizing principle, actually, but I have to say, seeing the steady stream of ecstatic photos, this part is pretty fun.

If you’d told me back when H.’s article blew my mind that I’d one day be having late brunch with her along with our respective partners in part to exchange baseball tickets, I would have said you were full of a kind of wish I wouldn’t dare to wish. And yet! There we were in revitalizing (maybe) (nah, I doubt it) Detroit, spending Detroit prices for NYC brunch food. Divine!

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