all about the biscuits

I went food-crazy this weekend. It will not be recorded. Suffice it to say that there was pizza involved. And fried chicken with biscuits. The rumors of homemade jam and chocolate aren't entirely unsubstantiated either.

After much soul-searching, I've decided it's totally over between me and the South Beach Diet. We just were not meant to be. Does this mean I'm going to be going back to being a total carb-whore? No, probably not. I'm just tired of cooking, and worrying about where a food lies on the almighty glycemic index. I would like my convenience foods back, please.

On other fronts, I am toeing the verge of going completely batshit insane. I can't get a handle on things. I know that I'm sending incredibly bitchy emails to people, which is out of character for me. Not to mention the confusing, rambling phone messages that end with "yeah, so, um, I don't really know what I'm saying anymore, but call me back." It's about to come to blows with the company we bought the bed from (who cannot seem to understand that the "after March 2nd" delivery we requested is NOT the same thing as "on March 2nd" or "any-fucking-time that is convenient for the delivery company", and that I can't give them money I don't have, and knew I wouldn't have, and if they'd just read the delivery instructions correctly, they would have realized that without having to call us 6 times and counting).

Ahem.

So yeah, not much with the inner peace right now. At least the (inevitable) weight gain from my weekend eating hasn't shown up yet. Today, that would send me over the edge.