It's the end of week 1, and there have been a few trials already.
The rogue fire alarm, ridiculous levels of heat, and a rebellious uterus have all tried to fuck me up. I think I've kicked their asses.
Even in the morning it felt too hot to want to eat. Thankfully David eased me into it with his offer of a cup of tea, green chai. The mild flavor when combined with some sugar and milk helped ready my stomach for something a little more substantial.
Finally I got annoyed with the rumbling of my stomach and shoved a couple handfuls of dried banana and apple pieces into my mouth. Bananas were rare to the point of not existing in WWII Britain, so that wasn't really right, but dried fruit in general aren't rationed yet. And I was damn hungry and grumpy.
When I realized that even though it was nearly 90 degrees F, I was barely sweating, I realized that I needed to get out of that hot apartment. Really it was more than 90 in that flat; the outside temperature was nearly 90 and it felt heavenly in comparison. With even further determination I hurried across the street to Starbucks.
Getting into the AC was amazing. More than amazing, it felt like my life was saved. The medium iced chai did the rest for the next few hours I glued my ass to one of the stools with my laptop. Half of that time was spent hoping I wouldn't have to leave early to wash out my cup and the other half with history documentaries on the screen. Thank the gods I didn't have to go until near closing time.
Leaving Starbucks wasn't as bad as I feared. It had cooled off a little in the time I spent basking in the AC, so I didn't feel like melting on the way home. Or since I got home.
Immediately upon opening the front door I was hit by the smell of fresh baked bread. David had made a sort of flat bread with Italian herbs on it, fresh out of the oven not long before I walked in. Holy hell, I'm so blessed that I somehow managed to marry a man who can cook and bake. Two large squares of that bread with some butter on it was bliss. The apple I sliced up for dessert was almost as nice.
Of my rationed foods, I've eaten surprisingly little. Besides the bacon; of the 6 oz allowed, 4 are gone.
Of the 8 oz butter allowance, I've only had about 2 oz. That's about half a stick of butter. The other stick is still in the fridge, helpfully labeled with an otter.
It turns out that half a gallon of milk is more than I thought. Only most of a quart has gone down my throat, the other one still unopened. In the upcoming week I'm going to get milk a quart at a time and if I finish one off before the end of the week, I'll get another.
Half of the cooking fat, about a liquid ounce of olive oil, is still in the container. The weather being so hot has kept me from cooking enough to use it all. When it cools down, I'll see what happens there.
The twenty points went to the cans of tomato soup and beans that helped make the soup I was eating earlier this week. I haven't had anything else in a can this week, after all.
Having loads of fruit and vegetables available has been an enormous help this week and I'm sure that will continue in the upcoming week. I still have a couple of apples, peaches, corn cobs, and about half the lettuce and broccoli I bought last week. Those will likely get cooked up this upcoming week. Well, if it cools down enough to not want to lock myself in a walk-in freezer.
Eating out has been my historically accurate bane. Sometimes it couldn't be helped, like when the fire alarm went off. The weather helped with the others, sending me fleeing to AC and the food and drink served in those places. For the most part I've stuck to food items that would have been available then and there. The drinks not so much, maybe a second cousin to what would have been familiar.
In the week ahead I hope to not eat out quite as much. It's a bit hard on the wallet and it feels kind of like a cheat. If I'm going to do this experiment, I'm going to do it right.
On to week 2!
The rogue fire alarm, ridiculous levels of heat, and a rebellious uterus have all tried to fuck me up. I think I've kicked their asses.
Even in the morning it felt too hot to want to eat. Thankfully David eased me into it with his offer of a cup of tea, green chai. The mild flavor when combined with some sugar and milk helped ready my stomach for something a little more substantial.
Finally I got annoyed with the rumbling of my stomach and shoved a couple handfuls of dried banana and apple pieces into my mouth. Bananas were rare to the point of not existing in WWII Britain, so that wasn't really right, but dried fruit in general aren't rationed yet. And I was damn hungry and grumpy.
When I realized that even though it was nearly 90 degrees F, I was barely sweating, I realized that I needed to get out of that hot apartment. Really it was more than 90 in that flat; the outside temperature was nearly 90 and it felt heavenly in comparison. With even further determination I hurried across the street to Starbucks.
Getting into the AC was amazing. More than amazing, it felt like my life was saved. The medium iced chai did the rest for the next few hours I glued my ass to one of the stools with my laptop. Half of that time was spent hoping I wouldn't have to leave early to wash out my cup and the other half with history documentaries on the screen. Thank the gods I didn't have to go until near closing time.
Leaving Starbucks wasn't as bad as I feared. It had cooled off a little in the time I spent basking in the AC, so I didn't feel like melting on the way home. Or since I got home.
Immediately upon opening the front door I was hit by the smell of fresh baked bread. David had made a sort of flat bread with Italian herbs on it, fresh out of the oven not long before I walked in. Holy hell, I'm so blessed that I somehow managed to marry a man who can cook and bake. Two large squares of that bread with some butter on it was bliss. The apple I sliced up for dessert was almost as nice.
Of my rationed foods, I've eaten surprisingly little. Besides the bacon; of the 6 oz allowed, 4 are gone.
Of the 8 oz butter allowance, I've only had about 2 oz. That's about half a stick of butter. The other stick is still in the fridge, helpfully labeled with an otter.
It turns out that half a gallon of milk is more than I thought. Only most of a quart has gone down my throat, the other one still unopened. In the upcoming week I'm going to get milk a quart at a time and if I finish one off before the end of the week, I'll get another.
Half of the cooking fat, about a liquid ounce of olive oil, is still in the container. The weather being so hot has kept me from cooking enough to use it all. When it cools down, I'll see what happens there.
The twenty points went to the cans of tomato soup and beans that helped make the soup I was eating earlier this week. I haven't had anything else in a can this week, after all.
Having loads of fruit and vegetables available has been an enormous help this week and I'm sure that will continue in the upcoming week. I still have a couple of apples, peaches, corn cobs, and about half the lettuce and broccoli I bought last week. Those will likely get cooked up this upcoming week. Well, if it cools down enough to not want to lock myself in a walk-in freezer.
Eating out has been my historically accurate bane. Sometimes it couldn't be helped, like when the fire alarm went off. The weather helped with the others, sending me fleeing to AC and the food and drink served in those places. For the most part I've stuck to food items that would have been available then and there. The drinks not so much, maybe a second cousin to what would have been familiar.
In the week ahead I hope to not eat out quite as much. It's a bit hard on the wallet and it feels kind of like a cheat. If I'm going to do this experiment, I'm going to do it right.
On to week 2!
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