I'm in a funk in every way possible. My cooking is uninspired and while it tastes good, I find it boring. Roasted chicken with mashed potatoes, while moist, crunchy and fluffy, was just what it was, roasted chicken with mashed potatoes. (It doesn't help that even the photo looks boring.)
Ths pork chops, roasted new potatoes and some couscous was ok. A few minutes after starting the sear on my chops, I remembered why I don't do it as often. It's essentially a fried chop, one that is not only unhealthy but also a stinky nuisance. Granted, pork chops smell yummy but I really hate how the smell permeates everything. Also, I don't like waking up at 2a and getting hungry because my bedsheets, once full of that awesome Downey scent, smell like pork chops. Which, brings me to the other areas of my current state of funkdom. I am not sleeping very well. I toss and toss, wake up at all hours and have odd dreams. I ceased taking Lunesta about a month ago because, I don't know, a strong dependency was about to occur and that would have been no bueno despite my strong, hard love for prescription drugs. I'm also having some aches and pains that make me feel closer to 40 than I am willing to admit to right now. Fuck, 40. That's a milestone. A really big adult milestone. If (cause I can get really morbid) and when I hit 40, will I have to retire my Harry Potter calendars? Remove my Little Mermaid pillowcase? Will my love for Harry still be around at 40 or will a new boy wizard slither (not Slytherin, not Slytherin) his/her way into my inner 12-year old? Dilemmas.
Back to my funk, shit, it's really bothering me. Maybe it's the move and still trying to find my groove there, trying to make our furniture work, getting the kitchen organized in a way that is most efficient for me, researching and researching cat trees, wall shelves, a TV stand and now a MFing car. Maybe it's the stupid weather. I'm sorry Snow/Icepocalypse. Come back, even if for a day. This damn, what I have deemed as Zombie Weather, which involves morning fog, lots of humidity and overcast skies, sucks big, hairy balls. For realsies.
I'd much prefer George Clinton than this. Blah.