6:48am Awake again. I pop my morning hit of vitamin D, not expecting to see a moment of actual sun today. I get ready for work, unscrewing the now cold jar of overnight oats and pouring them into the bottom container of my plastic bento box, since I can’t bring glass into work. Only as I’m heading out the door do I remember my fizzy multivitamin. Too late. 8:21am We make it to work with time to spare this morning. Through security, I stop to be hand scanned and start the arduous trek to the education department’s staff room. I arrive and head for the microwave, unclipping the containers from one another. I prepared the porridge mixture last night – again with muesli, sultanas, peanut butter, and honey, but realize this time I’ve forgotten the cinnamon. What a drag! I want a coffee right away, but wait my turn behind my Thursday chauffeur – the other colleague who kindly drives me to and from my home once a week. The Aeropress belongs to her and I figure the least I can do is let her use it before me. I check the freezer for my coffee and see only enough for one cup left. I’ve forgotten to refill it after telling myself to do so about a hundred times last night. What a day this is turning out to be.
10:40am I suck down the last drop of my coffee, which I’ve been nursing for ages and peel back my morning banana. Perfectly spotty and not at all squished, I delight in its fragrance and texture this morning. They’ve given me a cumbersome belt at work with a pouch on it to keep my keys, but I haven’t gotten any keys, yet and imagine using the storage for a secret stash of chocolate I can squirrel away and pick at throughout the day. 12:45pm Lunch. I’ve got a tiny bit of soup from yesterday and a brand new pot of tomato basil. I mix the two together in yesterday’s dubious blue bowl with the yellow stain and put it in the microwave. Removing the toaster from its hiding place, I plug it in, unplugging the kettle in the process, and hoping not to cause a tea break riot because of it. I pop in my pita and wait. Just then, I hear a small explosion. My soup has splattered red throughout the microwave. I fling open the door examining the crime scene and remove what I imagine will be scalding hot bowl. I wipe down the door and the sides, the ceiling and the floor and carefully taste a spoonful. It’s cold! Back in it goes, while I watch like a hawk and claw at the door every time I hear the slightest pop. The toast arises, not very brown, but I can already see a queue of colleagues nervously puttering about shifting their weight from one foot to the other waiting for the kettle to be plugged in. I peel open my pita. Disappointingly chilled and untoasted as it still is, it manages to burn my hands in its pockets. I pick it apart into 4 pieces and spread the margarine across it able to coat only 3 pieces well and scraping tiny bits across the 4th. I eat my soup. It’s tasty. When I get near the end of the bowl, I’m still hungry and so I fill it with more tomato basil. It’s then that another colleague walks in and begins what feels like an eternity of putting things into and taking them out of the microwave. I sit there staring at my bowl of cold soup waiting to heat it as my pita becomes colder and soggier by the second. Finished with my soup and bread, I immediately notice my tummy aching again, as it did yesterday. I drink some water and begin to make a decaf coffee hoping for my belly to calm down. The pain moves on, but the bloating continues and soon my stomach feels like a balloon about to burst. Somehow this doesn’t stop me from eating my last two squares of Galaxy dark chocolate. I see my colleague eyeing the package, but I don’t offer. Not today.
5pm I make it to Lidl for cauliflower. I’ve found a recipe for Moroccan Spiced Whole Roast Cauliflower in the Lidl holiday book and think I’ll make that for Sunday’s feast. This means buying dried apricots and pomegranate arils, 4 heads of cauliflower, 3 boxes of sage and onion stuffing mix, thyme and lemon juice. The recipe seems to call for making a mixture and spreading it over the top of the cauliflower and then roasting it. It sounds delicious. It’s only after I get all the ingredients home that I see the cook time coming in at over an hour. As this doesn’t seem much like something that will keep long, I realize I’m now going to be taking up more oven space for longer nearer dinnertime. I’m freaked. If I had a genie lamp, I’d wish to live in an industrial kitchen.
6:15pm I’m feeling pretty done with today. My stomach still feels weird. I have no energy to cook or even think about what to eat. I opt for Kellog’s Corn Flakes. Now hear me out. No, the corn flake probably doesn’t contain any nutritional value. No, the corn flake isn’t particularly satisfying on a cold night. No, one bowl won’t fill me up. But, I don’t have to cook them, I’ve remembered to buy oat milk, and they’re immediate. Plus, there’s the added nostalgia associated with my grandparents. My pop used to make hot cocoa on the stove and pour it over his corn flakes – I always thought it was weird, but imagine it might be soothing. My non told me she used to love corn flakes as a late night snack. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen either of my parents eat corn flakes. Maybe it skips a generation. I fill the bowl to the top and dig in. I use my favorite spoon in the drawer – the one with the flowers along the long slender handle. I ravage the bowl and immediately fill it again. I eat this one slower, but make it through. I add a bit more to meet the milk line and crush them down in the bottom. I add a bit more milk and a bit more flake. I’m full.
8:37pm I get up from a nap. My stomach isn’t great, I’m still exhausted. I remember that multivitamin I forgot to take and splash it into a cup hoping the B12 in it will somehow imbue me with the energy I need to finish today. I have a cup of rooibos piping hot, bag still in. The handmade mug is funky and bright and was a gift from a dear friend to replace the one my old flatmate told me he pooed in… I have a half-day at work tomorrow and will be cooking from the moment I arrive home so I’ve got to get myself together and be on my game. A fellow foodie friend has offered to come by to help peel potatoes and do some other sous-cheffing for me. I relish the idea of having company while I cook and am secretly pleased at her persistence of offering help until I broke down and accepted. 11pm Mom texts me to tell me she’s “full, full, full” after eating stuffing and cranberry sauce, apple sauce, and mashed potatoes. She’s made pie and has watched the Thanksgiving Day parade and for the first time in a while I really miss being home. Today, on American Thanksgiving, I am thankful for so many things and so many people in my life and soon, I’ll be thankful for sleep.
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Saturday, 26 November 2022
Day 3 - American Thanksgiving
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