At this point, I’m a Picasso sketch of my former self. It’s grim -- I’m basically down to a big nose and a tweaked out left eye. I’m just hoping my family recognizes me when they scoop me up from the airport.
My food used to emerge pre-prepared from cellophane and go down the hatch in one fell swoop. Now I let the dishes stack up until the last possible moment and towards the end I wind up eating cereal out of Tupperware with a coffee spoon.
I've learned that tracking expenses in an Excel spreadsheet makes my OCD flare, making lemonade out of lemons that are about to expire is not for the weary, and my life is not a laboratory experiment that I want to exact rules on.