Of Love and Pizza

This why people get fat.

I’m in the car, on my way to The Wedding Date’s house from the Oak Lane Library in northeast Philly where I’ve just spent the past hour and a half espousing the virtues of online to middle aged strangers.  It’s well past dinner time, and I’ve had one of my protein bars (since they’re now hidden in an Abuela-proof container) but still, I’m hungry.

It’s not your average, run-of-the-mill hunger.  It’s not even hunger, actually.  It’s desperation.  Every time I think I’ve wrapped my head around the idea of my grandparents in, some sappy song comes on the radio and I get all emotional and start to wonder how long The Wedding Date will put up with me like this.

I’ve been a wreck all week.

I’m overtired and burning the candle at both ends and even though I’m super excited about getting this dance company off the ground, I’m overwhelmed by the amount of work it’s going to require.  Between my work schedule and TWD’s custody schedule, it feels like we hardly ever get to see each other anymore, and when we do, I just want to go to bed and sleep.  The only times we get to talk is when I’m on my way into work and he’s on his way out, and even then my mind is elsewhere.

So I veer off the highway and head make a beeline for Domino’s.  It’s practically deserted so after waiting around for someone to take my order I realize there isn’t anyone except for the cashier because this is—after all— a rest stop on the side of the highway.  I finally help myself to a personal pan pizza in little cardboard box and even though it’s been resting beneath a heat lamp for the past seven hours or so, it isn’t nearly as good as I’d hoped it would be.

Go figure.

Nonetheless, I eat it.

And half an hour later, I pull over again, this time for chocolate.

In truth, I need chocolate and tampons.  (In fact, why CVS doesn’t stock these items in the aisle is beyond me.  I mean seriously, does anyone ever buy one without the other???)

By the time I finally arrive at The Wedding Date’s house, I’ve already devoured an entire square of Ghiradelli raspberry dark chocolate (even though he only lives about 90 seconds away from the CVS).

I pause to fix my makeup before going in—I know I’m acting like a crazy person right now, but I see no need to go around looking like a crazy person too—and I thank my lucky stars that TWD lives only one state away.  Who knows how many calories I would’ve consumed if it was any further than that.

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5 thoughts on “Of Love and Pizza

  1. Between my work schedule and TWD’s custody schedule, it feels like we hardly ever get to see each other anymore, and when we do, I just want to go to bed and sleep. The only times we get to talk is when I’m on my way into work and he’s on his way out, and even then my mind is elsewhere.
    Skip the “custody” in schedule and you have me & the Rev, over the last five years or so. It’s gotten way better, but we’ve been married forever. Not to diminish your exhaustion on several levels, but this sort of stuff happens. Just happens. It’ll get better. And really? Separating the chocolate and the tampons is just mean. Let’s put the ice cream freezer in that aisle too, while we’re changing things up.

    • Yes! Ice cream and chips too :) I’m starting to realize that life is just life… and we all go through rough patches once in a while so this is just the first of many more to come. And in the words of the brilliant Kelly Clarkson (LOL), what doesn’t kill us makes up stronger.

  2. Yes, chips and chocolate, as we all know, we go from craving chocolate, to then overdosing so we then need something salty, and on and on and don’t forget the red wine needs to be there somewhere…I know, an entire aisle devoted to women’s needs, forget “feminine hygiene” aisles, they are pretty darn useless…

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