Code Red

The procrastination level in my life has officially reached a very dangerous level. I'm talking toxic, potentially fatal...just plain bad. Coupled with my massive broke-ness, I'm afraid that my health may start to suffer:

1) I haven't done groceries since April 18th. This is incredibly pathetic considering the fact that I grocery shop online and charge it all to my dad's AmEx. So it's not a money issue (although my checking account is currently hovering at -5.18 thanks to my excessive spending last week in Puerto Rico). And it's not a time issue. It's more of a "just haven't gotten around to logging onto Peapod and clicking on what I want" kinda issue. Basically, I'm lazy. The contents of my fridge at this moment consist of things one would usually find at the Roy Rogers "fixins bar": a tomato, an empty jar of applesauce, a gallon of water, a can of green chiles, and assorted condiments (mayo, horseradish, capers, two kinds of mustard, tahini, etc.). There also used to be a half-jar of stuffed green olives, but I ate that for dinner today.

Actually, most of my meals for the past two weeks have left much to be desired. I'm eating the way people eat when they are either:

a) about to move out of an apartment and trying to use up all the food,

b) pregnant, or

c) insane.

(For the record, I am none of the above.)

I'm actually quite shocked that I haven't passed out in the middle of Connecticut Avenue.

On Monday, for example, the only thing I ate all day was a half-can of Goya Black Bean soup...room temp...right out of the can. I sat there poking a spoon into the can while watching Beautiful Girls for the 89th time (such a damn good movie) and thinking, "Didn't I go to culinary school?" On Tuesday I had ramen and several glasses of wine. Last night I had plain rice with butter and salt on it and Diet Coke with a whole lotta rum in it. Today I ate 8 stuffed olives, some Wheat Germ, and two-going-on three glasses of wine. I thought I'd hit a low point half-way through last week when I made myself a BLT, sans the L, T, and bread. Yes, do the math: I had bacon for dinner. And some rum. Basically, I'm just drinking my calories these days. Alcohol is now the only thing keeping me alive.

I was kind of dizzy today at work, but because of aforementioned negative checking balance issue, going out to lunch was not an option. I made myself a cup of tea and was pawing through my purse for a piece of candy when my coworker Mike walked into my office to say good-bye (he's headed to South Africa in a few weeks). He was carrying a plastic container with leftovers from his lunch. "You don't want half a Reuben and fries, do you?" He asked. My eyes lit up like those of the 10-cents-a-day kids you see in Sally Struthers commercials. "Sure," I said in my best oh-no-I'm-not-totally-broke-and-starving voice. It was the best tasting sandwich I've ever had in my life. Ever. I felt the way those Little House on the Prairie girls felt when Michael Landon came home with an orange and oyster crackers. It was like Christmas.

I finally realized that this was getting really sad, and so, to motivate myself, I invited a couple friends over for dinner on Saturday evening. Then I surfed on over to Peapod and ordered $200 of groceries. They'll be delivered tomorrow morning between 6 and 8 AM, and you have no idea how excited I am. I've never been so enraptured with the possibility of making my own turkey sandwich. Or pouring myself a glass of juice! Juice! Oh my ship is coming in...


2) A second example of general Alejandra laziness: I got back from Puerto Rico about a week and a half ago. I've yet to unpack and have basically spent the week pulling clothing out of the unzipped suitcase and quickly ironing it in the morning. I can't afford to do laundry so pretty much everything I own smells like coconut oil and is covered with a barely imperceptible layer of sand. Oh, and I pretty much stopped wearing underwear about three days ago.

My cat has a weird love of suitcases (and coconut oil, I think) and is constantly trying to snuggle up on my piles of linen skirts, bathing suits, and magazines (if you click on that picture you should be able to find last month's issue of Wired nestled among the brightly colored clothing). I spend a lot of time running after her with a little plastic spray bottle of water. Much in the same way Dr. Evil controls Mini Me.

I was discussing all this earlier today on Gmail Chat with Looney and Sara, both of whom are going through similar financial situations (Looney's still wearing underwear, though...I hope). He sighed his Looney sigh (well, I'm pretty sure he did at least, but we can't be sure since it was on IM) and said, "Don't worry, we'll grow up eventually."

I really, really, hope so. Until then, I'm eagerly anticipating my tax refund...