End of the Year

As you can see, I haven't blogged since Thanksgiving. That's mostly because I haven't cooked much more than a quick meal since thanksgiving at home. Food for me has become a snatched sandwich, made by somebody I don't know, a face made at seeing the same sickly sweet salad for the third time this week, made again by somebody I don't know (and whether the same person or not as the sandwich I have no way to tell) eaten hunched over a table that isn't mine, with people that aren't my family. I've poked despondently at a disgusting steak dinner celebrating something I have no interest in celebrating, woken up knowing that the only good parts of my day are my morning macchiato and the time between 2:10 am and 2:30 am when my wife wakes up to welcome me home. Are these complaints the stuff of tragedy? Obviously not - can anyone imagine a more first world problem than too many steak dinners? But I feel sick and unhealthy and run down, because the sources from which I derive my feelings of health and well-being, exercise and good food wrought from good ingredients by my own hands, have been robbed from me. In any case, enough gloom. Here's to a cheerier, more human, 2010.