I've decided what I miss most. Food. There are variations in fuel, obviously, but there is no cheesecake. There is no wonderful pot roast, all warm and tender after sitting in the crock pot in mom's kitchen all day. Hell, I'd punch a kid to steal their celery sticks.
It took a while for this to become apparent, it has been three weeks since the incident and it only really hit me this morning. I woke up craving toast with butter on it hardcore. And I didn't even realize the problem until I got out of bed to go to the kitchen and make breakfast. The metallic clank of my feet hitting the floor brought me back to reality.
God in heaven, I still am dreaming about wonderful, glorious whole wheat slices of bread toasted delicately and spread ever so lovingly with butter. I wasn't even a foodie before, but you don't realize what you've got 'til it is gone I guess. Sitting and staring at the little container of gasoline that was breakfast, Bumblebee had asked why I seemed so downtrod. I tried to explain but he didn't get it. He's never had taste I don't think nor the wide array of food option humans have flourished at creating. Michaela said later that Bee had asked her and Sam about it and they were much more sympathetic. She suggested I try fuel additives to see if that helped to give me some variation. I'm thinking I might get a bottle of Sta-bil or something to see if that helps. I have to do something.
I'm actually really glad I have Michaela to talk to. I like the idea of still having a human gal pal, someone I can talk to about normal things. Probably shouldn't talk about food though, just thinking about it puts me down a bit.
No comments:
Post a Comment