cravings

So apparently I didn't mention that Keith is my new roommate. He is. Keith has all-American eating habits. The night he moved in, I just happened to be cooking a piece of salmon with dill from my Chia herb garden, rice, and salad. Keith got takeout from Outback Steak House- approximately 1 lb. of bacon cheese fries, AND a burger. Next day, I made a casserole. He got the same takeout. It's slightly awkward: "Do you want some bacon cheese fries?" "YES! I crave them! I would eat them even if they were made out of my first-born child! Hey, do you want some... English pea casserole?" "No thanks."

Fortunately, this orgy of takeout food only lasted a few days. Then Keith started home-cooking meals: lunch is two Lunchables (aren't those for... when you're not home?), and dinner is an entire frozen pizza and a pile of tater tots.

Having this stuff baking in my oven daily, the sweet smells of hydrogenated vegetable oil, high fructose corn syrup, and natural and artificial flavorings wafting through the door to my bedroom, has CHANGED ME. Now I want them- all the time! I finally broke down and made a store-brand frozen pizza, and I was relieved that I couldn't even finish it. I would buy tater tots, but the freezer is crammed full of fish sticks and waffle fries. They're crowding out my familiy pack of chicken and Edy's fruit bars.

To be fair, Keith did buy fruit: three banannas. He ate one. The other two sat on the counter until they kind of stuck to it, whereupon I made one of them into a strawberry-bananna-soy milk milkshake, and threw the other one out.