stress dream much?
March 26, 2009

I awoke at 3:22 this morning, from a dream where I got up and got ready for work, and turned to channel 9 on the TV to get the weather, like I always do...and Robin Baumgartner was announcing that my company was closing its doors due to the economy.

8:00 am on a Thursday must be the worst possible time to try and get some white toast. My fussy guts wanted dry toast and weak tea for breakfast today, and so I visited the cafeteria.

But as we near the end of the work week, they tend to let things run out. So as to avoid wasting food, I'm sure--but it really wouldn't kill them to bust out another loaf of white bread, would it?

Our company cafeteria sucks in a remarkable number of ways, and the worst, for me, is the dearth of bland foods. The cooking has become more and more hispano-centric in the last few years, to the point where there are frequently days where there isn't anything edible on the menu that I'm not either allergic to or nauseated by.

Breakfast changed more slowly, and the decline in general quality seems to be hidden under a thick layer of salsa and hot sauce. And since I unaccountably get fiery heartburn from oatmeal...at this point, I'm limited to plain toast and weak tea when I have a gastric flare-up. And any other time, I can't get much more than that, except the hard-boiled eggs (The only real eggs, they serve--all the omelets and scrambles come out of a 5-gallon bucket of yellow stuff). My toasting choices this morning were: 7-grain, cinnamon-raisin, and caraway rye, plus bagels--pumpernickel, asiago cheese, and one crusted with what appeared to be bird seed.

Not exactly what I needed for my ridiculously fussy innards.