I smell a latte coming on

It is mid-afternoon, only about 2 1/2 hours from quitting time, and if I don't get a latte in my belly soon, I might well damn 'splode.

Not for any real reason. Except for maybe I've been on a quasi-diet the past few days, and my stomach's starting to rage a fit. I know it wants a burger, but the latte is the best I can do.

But about the diet: Ever since I moved out of Jerry's house and into the apartment from hell, I've done no cooking whatsoever. Oh, well, except maybe one time when my brain done took a vacay and I made tortellini (out of a bag, people, don't freak out). But for the most part, like about 99% of the time, Autumn and I have subsisted on McDonald's, Sonic, KFC, Arby's, Pizza Hut and the like. For those not doing the math, that is like 7 months of Fast Food Craziness right there (so crazy that is gets capital letters)!

So I'm trying a little thing. It's called groceries. And not crazy people groceries, such as steak tartar or oysters on the half shell, but normal ones like fruit and Chicken Helper. (Well, we are talking about me, you know that, right?)

(And by "fruit" I mean apples in a bag already sliced up that cost about $948594 more than regular whole apples, but dangit if I don't have to prepare them myself! They's washed and ready to EAT! Yay! And, well, time is money.)

But back to my point of the latte (you forgot that was the point, didn't you?) ...

I've been so good with the cottage cheese and crackers, that how can I not have one? I think eating at home for lunch everyday this week deserves a little reward, don't you? (This is where you agree with me and say, "Why yes we do think so!" That is your job as my loyal blog readers -- agreeing with every dadgum thing I say. Just so you know.)

Mmmmm, k. I've postponed this long enough. I'm walking next door (yes, I said "walking", as coming up with a little scooter or something electrical and mobile proves to be too difficult at the moment).

Latte, baby! Here I come!