Dinner last night: Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Chunk and Almond Cookies. Probably about forty percent of the container, so that's nearly half a pound. I'm blaming womankind.
See, in the old days, when I still had somebody who didn't mind jumping my dessicated bones now and then, I was a social eater. Which implied yummy things, chopsticks, side dishes, and condiments.
Having been a born-again bachelor for these past nearly five years, communal eating isn't part of the programme.
By myself, I tend to scarf crap down without thinking.
Social eater: "how about another bit of roast duck, dearheart, and these vegetables are just scrumptious!"
Single man: "I'm eating cookies!"
Rounding out the balanced diet: Old Amsterdam cheese, and un-cured Genoa Salami.
The average married man is fat and complacent, whereas the un-attached male tends toward the lean and hungry look. We must maintain our cat-like reflexes, and lithe wiry trim.
I think I have done so.
Admirably.
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