When I was a kid, I would always wake hungry and couldn’t wait more than 30 minutes, tops, to eat breakfast. I had to eat every few hours or risk a headache. As a young adult, I developed minor anxiety if I couldn’t eat at regular intervals or snack in between. In college, I would take snacks with me during field classes, and my fellow students and professors would make fun of me. They were just jealous because I weighed all of 103 pounds and could eat a quarter of my body weight without gaining an ounce. These days I don’t have as much anxiety surrounding food, and sometimes I don’t eat for a couple of hours after getting up. And if I eat a huge breakfast, which I did this morning, it will satiate me until mid or late afternoon. Have times changed—including my body weight, alas. I’m considering trying a huge meal in the AM to keep from getting hungry throughout the day.
The breakfast gave me enough energy to help Hubby load around 30 bags of mulch and horse poo to dump on the garden. He was the one who shoveled and schlepped; I just held the bags open at the collection station. At home he wheelbarrowed it onto the garden, and I spent more time in the basement, punch list in hand. There are a few minor things, such as caulking, putting up window shades, and figuring out which cabinet shelves to put the guest room bedding on. It seems the tendency toward domesticity has increased with my age. What’s going to happen when we decide we want to live in a tiny house on wheels?