The sound of fire doors smashing shut and the fire alarm screaming jolted us awake at 1 am this morning.
Once I knew we weren’t about to be incinerated, I started the process of gathering my most valuable things, finding my purse, and putting on some more clothes. My husband is the only one I will torture with my ‘pajamas‘ which consists of short shorts, woodcutter-esque wool socks, and the latest and greatest free t-shirt.
The man deserves an award for putting up with me.
After 37 minutes of standing outside with my neighbours who were also clutching laptops, cameras, photo albums, pets, and purses; we were allowed back inside.
With one eye closed, I took off my down filled coat, set the coffee pot to start perking at 4:25, and dropped back into bed.
What followed was torture in the extreme.
For the next 3 hours, I suffered through the craziest food dreams on the planet.
Martinis, nachos, cake, donuts, cheesecake, wine, chocolate, popcorn, and pizza were devoured by your’s truly all while I kept saying, ‘Umm…why am I eating this? I don’t eat this stuff. Huh! Strange. Complete and utter strangeness! Tasty though! Ooh, CAKE!‘
I knew it wasn’t really happening because no peanut butter was consumed. If this had been real life, I would have eaten more peanut butter than one woman should eat in a month.
While I gorged, all my friends chanted, ‘EAT, EAT, EAT!‘
I was very thankful to wake up this morning to the usual black coffee, egg whites, and kasha.
Apparently the combination of a rest day, high carb day, and midnight fire results in enough stress to push me over the edge to have a mental food binge.
I feel like I have entered a whole new realm of prep.
Literally dreaming of food.