Failure of the Day: Sheep
Every morning, I wake up at 5:30. I don’t have to get up until 8, but my eyelids pop open like little springs—sproing!—the same time each day. I generally spend this time worrying that I am about to get fired or hit by a car or widowed; my brain still runs that way despite the fact that there is so little immanent, foreseeable danger facing me at the moment that I have to stretch decades into the future to rub my fingertip on a nugget of it.
I wake up so early because I am hungry. Except I’m not…I’m never hungry in the morning…I just have a craving. For meat. Rare, pink meat on a bone. Lamb. Good God, do I crave lamb. And I’m screwed because after my 90 day Nancy-Gets-Anything-She-Wants-Because-She-Doesn’t-Get Cigarettes binge, I’m back on a low-cal trip.
(Aside: I bought some produce yesterday on my way home from the Y. But when Chris came home and saw the fruit, I think he might not have even recognized it, it was so out of context. “It looks like an apple…but Nancy’s holding, so it…it can’t be!”)
It’s weird because before my current spate of cravings, I haven’t had lamb since I was a little girl. And I didn’t really like it then. But all of a sudden, I just can’t get enough of it. And I think I know why. For my birthday this year, Chris gave me the complete Haruki Murakami library…some 10 or so books. I read a bunch of them until the new Martin Amis came out, and then I put them aside for a while. Now I’m back on Murakami.
If you’ve read him, you already know: sheep, sheep, and more sheep. I’m just finishing up A Wild Sheep Chase this week. I was going to read another of his before moving on to Elizabeth Costello by JM Coetzee, an xmas present from Chris, but I think I’ll have to postpone reading the rest of the Murakami for a while. I’m just too hungry.
Every morning, I wake up at 5:30. I don’t have to get up until 8, but my eyelids pop open like little springs—sproing!—the same time each day. I generally spend this time worrying that I am about to get fired or hit by a car or widowed; my brain still runs that way despite the fact that there is so little immanent, foreseeable danger facing me at the moment that I have to stretch decades into the future to rub my fingertip on a nugget of it.
I wake up so early because I am hungry. Except I’m not…I’m never hungry in the morning…I just have a craving. For meat. Rare, pink meat on a bone. Lamb. Good God, do I crave lamb. And I’m screwed because after my 90 day Nancy-Gets-Anything-She-Wants-Because-She-Doesn’t-Get Cigarettes binge, I’m back on a low-cal trip.
(Aside: I bought some produce yesterday on my way home from the Y. But when Chris came home and saw the fruit, I think he might not have even recognized it, it was so out of context. “It looks like an apple…but Nancy’s holding, so it…it can’t be!”)
It’s weird because before my current spate of cravings, I haven’t had lamb since I was a little girl. And I didn’t really like it then. But all of a sudden, I just can’t get enough of it. And I think I know why. For my birthday this year, Chris gave me the complete Haruki Murakami library…some 10 or so books. I read a bunch of them until the new Martin Amis came out, and then I put them aside for a while. Now I’m back on Murakami.
If you’ve read him, you already know: sheep, sheep, and more sheep. I’m just finishing up A Wild Sheep Chase this week. I was going to read another of his before moving on to Elizabeth Costello by JM Coetzee, an xmas present from Chris, but I think I’ll have to postpone reading the rest of the Murakami for a while. I’m just too hungry.
posted by Nancy @ 11:43 AM
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