I forgot to eat dinner last night. Twice.
Megan and I were walking the two doors down to water aerobics, and I said, “Oh. I forgot to eat dinner. Do you ever do that?” She does, apparently. She’s one of the few people I could ask that question who would look at me like I had sprouted a third eye or something. She said, taking the words straight out of my brain, “Yeah, I just get busy doing other stuff sometimes and don’t even think about it. Never on purpose, though.”
So, we came back from water aerobics, had a glass of wine with Jerry (I LOVE that we can have wine with All Grown Up Megan now. That just rocks.), ate a few chocolate chip cookies, laughed a LOT, and then kicked her out at 10:30. 🙂 I kid. She has class today, so it was a mutual decision — not just because we’re old farts.
And then I frittered on the computer (since wine means I can’t quilt — too dangerous. Don’t wanna sew through a finger, thanks) until bedtime. In the kitchen. With food all around me. Went to bed.
Had been there about 10 minutes, talking with Jerry and decompressing from our days, and I said, “Damn. I forgot to eat dinner AGAIN. I was going to eat after aerobics.”
“You wanna go down there and have a snack?”
“Nah. Too much trouble.”
The weird thing? I didn’t wake up ravenous this morning. I’ve had breakfast since I know I should (waffles). But not because my head hurt from the sugar crash or anything.