INFURIATED EMOTICON!
You guys, I’m sweaty. I don’t belong in this climate. It gets over 95° and I basically subsist entirely on frozen grapes and anger.
Part of being angry involves moping around the house during the daytime when I can see how filthy it is, which makes me pretty irate. Why don’t we have a fucking maid? Since when do I have principles?
Part of what is really pissing me off lately is this:
Do you have this? I didn’t used to be like this. I am disgusted by counter clutter, it drives me nuts (arr, it’s drivin’ me nuts!). It makes me so angry I didn’t feel like doing a decent job in Photoshop so now the letters are all nuclear retina-searing red. RAGE!
Anyway, without a pantry I can’t put foods away easily; every food item is carefully stacked and piled into two cabinets. Moreover, Mike the Nordic Berserker does not like it when he can’t find his snacks because he gets low blood sugar cannot hear Odin’s call. You laugh (I hope) but it’s no joke, he really will go a whole day without eating and then suddenly have a skull-splitting headache and talk backwards and start getting his flaming crossbolts ready¹. It started with just the bowl of Lara Bars, but in the last year it has come to be the entire prep table. So then today I spent a lot of energy trying to wrangle the technical details of making a whole “snack cabinet” but then I blacked out and woke up with frozen yogurt and delivery vegetable korma all over my face.
Is there such thing as an antacid patch?
¹ During one of the last posts Mike said to me “I like how I’ve become the villain of your blog,” which might have been said sarcastically by a normal person, but since Vikings aren’t capable of complex emotional undertones, I’m going to take it at face value.
I must meet this man.
Have you considered mounting some shelves over the table?
Sorry, I couldn’t get past the part where you chose to live in L.A. and are now unhappy that it’s really fucking hot. You do know that complaining about the weather means you are irretrievably Washingtonian, right?
OK fer reals now, IKEA has this kitchen shelf unit thing that has little cubbies with what look like square Pyrex liquid measuring cups (with the handles). The glass containers are fairly large, and see-through. You could put two of those end-to-end on the back side of that table, and organize Viking Mike’s snacks back there. They’d still be visible and grab-able, but that would de-clutter your work space considerably (you could put useful things on top, too). Or, you might find a very shallow shelving unit to put back there.
I hit 30 and suddenly I can’t cope with clutter. I didn’t like it before but now it sends me into a foaming white rage. Of course I live with a man who every night when I remind him at 10 p.m. that the day’s dishes need doing says “How can there be dishes??” despite the fact that he just hours before ate a meal that I cooked off of them. But I’m not bitter or anything.
I have considered the shelves, but there’s a further complication here that makes major … furniture changes .. a bad idea. I’ll get into more in the future. But not on the internet.
I’m a Northwesterner through and through. I can’t fight it. Rest assured that I am having a grand time 95% of my stay here on SoCal, primarily because I don’t have to wear shoes ever and I hate shoes in the same way that children hate getting shots. I mean, when I was working at Borders and actually had to wear gym shoes? MURDER. I called them my “slave shackles” and Mike knew he couldn’t talk to me or get in my way until I tore them from my body. But I don’t like the sun. I don’t like what it does to my precious eyeballs, I don’t like the feeling of sunblock on my face and arms, I don’t like it. Someday I’m going to retreat and live up on the peninsula for a year as a hermit and will emerge only to procure anti-fungal cream for the rashes I will most certain acquire.
You know, I have the same problem. Not the “cannot-hear-Odin’s-call”, the massive headaches if I skip meals. Sometimes coupled with fine motor tremors, chills, and dizziness. The odd thing is that when this first cropped up (during my first Lent as an Orthodox Christian), my diabetic-tendencies mother (who I would have expected to know better) advised me that she was sure the symptoms were ‘toxins’ being purged by the fasting. After a couple days to consider, I called bullshit on that and started carrying basic nutrient-bar-food-things to stave it off. I’m glad your Viking has a quick fix.