Prissy Hunger

How is it possible that I, someone who adores food (really, I’m not exaggerating), can only manage to drink some orange juice for lunch at work? I honestly don’t get how people can eat those soggy sandwiches or drink chemical soup from a machine. And seriously, I have tried to make sandwiches that stay fresh or salads that are edible come noon, but unfortunately, I’ve never been lucky. So I gave up. Give me that lukewarm orange juice instead.
It’s no wonder that I come home literally on the verge of starvation. You’d think that I would raid the fridge while cooking dinner, but really, I don’t. Well, ok.  If  you classify those two mandarins, a piece of cheese and maybe a glass of wine as part of a ‘fridge raid’, than you could say I raid the fridge. If I wouldn’t eat something, where would I get the energy to cook dinner anyway? And yes, I do cook dinner every night after work. Suffice to say, my meals are not always a success. Like yesterday’s potato, sausage and pea stir-fry. The potatoes were undercooked and the dish could’ve done with a little less chilli. We ate it though. We were hungry.
So, if you’re wondering where you can find my head and heart most days around three o’clock, well, I’ll tell you. I am usually daydreaming about something decadent. Not a monster of a meal, but a naughty little something. Perhaps a little bit of pate with a smidgen of cranberry compote on a thin piece of melba toast. Maybe a few rounds of spicy chorizo accompanied by a glass of sauvignon blanc. How prissy am I? Even when I’m so hungry I could eat the laptop in front of my face!