Whenever I open the fridge I see vats and vats of delicious food, waiting for me to prepare it or, in some instances, just for me to heat it up. And it all feels like much too much work and I slam the fridge door and go make tea and dream of takeout. But takeout is STUPID because we have so much food. I just don't have any energy.
Still. It's Lent, and I am going to recover, and we are going to eat all the food in the fridge and pantry for a week or until everything is gone, and I don't have this very ridiculous non-problem any more. I keep thinking of the Syrian refugees and feeling intensely guilty. And because of this we will eat all the marvelous food in the fridge, and I will fight acedia (but not Acedia, my stuffed sloth, because I love her) and soldier on in the really silly-seeming task, which I have just decided is representative of re-engaging with life.