Afterwards ... a mad indulgence. There is an ice cream parlor next to Stafford's new salon, and I spent 8 of my precious weekly WW flexpoints on a scoop of dark chocolate icecream in a sugar cone. I got out my PDA. I was going to read while I ate, as I usually do. But the ice cream was so-o-o good, so intricate, so absorbing, that I didn't even open up the case. Points for asceticism. Stuff you do every day is routine, but an infrequent indulgence is special.
I'm actually cooking. Sorta. I have reinvented English cuisine. Bake six chicken breasts. No oil. No seasoning. No fuss, no trouble, no taste. Chew on strips of chicken breast while proofreading. Re-fueling.
I have also baked potatoes, cooked oatmeal, hard-boiled eggs, cooked beans, and chopped up a cantaloupe. Several days' worth of each.
Yes, I could tinker with all of this and produce sophisticated dishes composed only of "core" foods. But that's time-consuming and I just can't get myself to do it. Perhaps someday.