Oops, I Did It Again

Really, I am getting way too far behind with posts here. The current problem is that I'm not doing anything whatsoever that would interest ANYBODY, most particularly me. There are all kinds of things in the pipeline...Boardwalk Empire, of course, but also my nice playwright Philippe wants to put on the one-woman show again, plus an earlier play of his that I did...although this time he wants me in a much better role than the two bit parts I played before. Oh, and I've got a reading of something coming up in a couple of weeks.

But of course, none of this is happening NOW. And Sarah's stuff is still in my second closet, and all those boxes are still on top of the second closet, and they're too heavy for me to get them down (books, mainly...I think). So I eat things and take naps and run up and down to smoke cigarettes. On which subject, Jane, you would be totally amazed...from being a nearly two pack a day smoker, I've gone to being a person who buys two to three packs A WEEK. The reason, of course, is that it's too damn complicated. When I could smoke in my own house, I was always smoking because I COULD. Half the time I'd forget I was smoking a cigarette and let it burn out in the ashtray. Now, smoking has to be planned, to an extent...I have to put on shoes, for one thing, and (since I don't care if it IS the first day of Spring, NYC hasn't noticed yet) get my coat, and get in the elevator. The result, particularly in bad weather, is that since I do have my electronic cigarette...I just don't bother. Naturally, they're now saying that those are terrible for people. I can't win.

Meanwhile, I am feeling quite frugal. I never care how much money I spend on food, because I have an extremely wonky appetite. This stems from a ghastly period of stress some years back which gave me a stress eating disorder during which I couldn't eat at all. I ended up at 94 pounds with a nice little case of malnutrition. I'm perfectly fine now, but I do tend to lose my appetite when I'm stressed...so I make sure that if there's something I truly want to eat, it's around. This gets slightly expensive, but what the hell. I'm only feeding me, mostly, and I think my health and well-being are more than worth it. So I buy the damn filet mignon and the shrimp. (Tonight's dinner was tiny little new potatoes, fresh, pencil thin asparagus, and a little sirloin steak. It was lovely, thank you.)

However, the money spent on food makes me slightly nutty about spending too much money on some other kitchen essentials. I am the one you will find scouring the aisles at KMart looking for the best buy on 16 rolls of paper towels and things like that.

I mention this because when I was cooking dinner tonight, I looked at what I was using and had to laugh. When I put the asparagus in the microwave (and however you've been cooking asparagus, stop immediately and use the microwave...it's the only way) I covered the dish with some plastic wrap that must be two years old. It's perfectly good Sarah Wrap, but they quit making this type of packaging because it doesn't quite work, even though it's a great idea. The box has a sort of plastic cutter...you know, where the serrated edge usually is...which cuts the wrap perfectly. Unfortunately, in order to get the wrap out to where the cutter is, you have to take it out of the box and unroll it, and then put it back in the box to cut. This is a nuisance. But there's at least a foot or so left on the roll, and by God, I'm going to use it up. The same goes for a HUGE roll...or what used to be a huge roll...of the worst tin foil I've ever used in my life, because it's as thin as tissue paper. It's something my ex-roommate Vicky picked up. Thank God I'm almost at the end of that.

I shall leave you with this perfectly lovely line from today's New York Times Travel section. It's the beginning of a recommendation of what to do where, but I think I'll just give you the beginning, which is what amused me anyway.

"Looking to get away from the Everest base camp scrum?"

Well, of COURSE I am. Aren't we all, really?

Love, Wendy