Snoqualmie

When October comes around I lose the ability to feed myself.

"One," I announced angrily to the wrong person a few minutes too late, "a woman in the presence of a man does not equal a wife. Two, if I were somebody's wife, I could still be addressed directly instead of through the man in whose presence I happened to be found. Three, you've got a fucking can of OE in your hand and you're asking me for fifty cents."

Today would have gone much better if I were actually fueled by rage instead of by regular food. The prospects of lunch and dinner had me wandering mournfully around the house, opening cupboards, closing them, looking in the fridge, looking in the freezer, looking in the pantry shelf, moping, opening cupboards, closing them, looking in the fridge again, sighing, and thinking of all the easy, exciting, nutritious meals that I should have available but don't. I blame the cold. Diannas have been observed in the wild to skip meals entirely when the inside temperature drops below 65 degrees; being hibernating animals, they conserve warmth by huddling under 3 layers of blankets and hoping that other people will do the cooking for them. If hot food does not become available, they instead enter a short-lived comatose state and hope that they'll wake up to pancakes in bed the next morning. Diannatologists have hypothesized that this habit is responsible for the major changes in body weight seen in Diannas during unusually long winters.

No, no point here really. Hey, look over there! Kittens!