It started at the Mint on Saturday. I don’t normally eat when I’m singing, but I suddenly got super hungry and had a tempura appetizer and some miso. Perfect. Hit the spot. But then when I got home, I didn’t want to stop eating, even though I wasn’t hungry, so I scarfed a mozzarella and Portobello sandwich with tapenade that I had gotten earlier at Bi-rite and even after that I was up and down to the fridge noshing most of the night feeling slightly compulsive.
Sunday I was up and down the steps doing a lot of laundry. I really, really hate doing laundry, which is why I usually pay people to do it for me, but the amount of laundry to be done was more than I had taken out to be done on Saturday and they’re not open on Sunday. If I didn’t go up and down the steps, the laundry would take over the house.
I had to go to the extremely no so beautiful laundrette downstairs, which since I live in the US, not the UK is not a laundrette, but a laundrymat, no matter how much of a pretentious anglophile I am. The place is totally skuzzy and when I went to do the first change from laundry to dryer, there were no fucking dryers available. There were dryers with clothes in them where the money had run out, but no one had come to get the clothes.
This pissed me off no end, but instead of throwing a hissy-fit and taking people’s clothes out of the dryers I just went upstairs and said, “I’ll deal with this later.” I also thought about how much I miss Miss Brown, who was this old lady who ran the laundrymat for years when I first moved to this neighborhood. She’s gone now and there’s no one to keep an eye on things.
Anyway, an hour later, I came back down and there were plenty of dryers. I threw in a lot of quarters and a lot of dryer sheets and eventually it all got done.
We watched some more Dr. Who series 1 with commentary and then a movie called Bubba Ho-Tep which is the coolest movie about Elvis in a nursing home fighting a mummy, with Ossie Davis as JFK, and no I’m not kidding, that you ever want to see.
I KNEW we were going out to dinner with Ivan and I always scarf a lot of food at Il Cantuccio anyway, but I was still in nibbly mood and couldn’t really stop.
Then we went out to dinner and had a great time, but I kept eating, including an egg-plant and goat cheese appetizer, spaghetti pomodoro, and bread with the most awesome green dipping sauce imaginable. If you ever visit me, I will take you to Il Cantuccio and you will die for the Green Stuff. And did I mention that with the bill you get a shot glass full of gummy bears? The only person doing more stuffing than me was Ivan who had a Tiramisu for dessert and then came back to the apartment for ice cream.
I really felt pretty bloated at this point. Not a good feeling and not one I've had to deal with lately. I honestly feel like I've got the food/body issue stuff mostly under control. I usually manage to listen to my hunger and eat what I want and stop when I'm full. USUALLY. This weekend was just fucked up.
He gave us the whole spiel about his trip to England where he hiked Hadrian’s wall and spent some time in London. Being a total Whovian he was incredibly, giggly happy to show me his picture of a Police Call Box. (He’s ol’-skool Who, so his fave is Tom Baker.) Then we watched “Rose” with the commentary and I lent him my disks on the pain of death that he must return them in a month.
Anyway—great weekend, but TOO MUCH FOOD. That kind of needs to stop.