This has been one of the busiest semesters that I have had on record. Thanks to my handy-dandy Franklin Covey planner, I effectively plan out every hour of the day so I can keep track of where I’m supposed to be and all of the assignments I should be doing. It’s a pretty good system.
There’s one part of my life that I have not quite figured out yet. Food.
I’m pretty boring when it comes to my food schedules. I eat the same thing every morning during the week.
I pack a lunch to take with me to school, usually a pastrami sandwich, a billion carrots, an apple and a piece of bread or cheese. You’d think for a short 20-year-old, this would be enough to last me for a few hours. Au contraire! My stomach thinks differently. Inevitably, around 3:30, or when I have another 1 1/2 hour left of work, my stomach begins to dance. It wiggles and grumbles at me obnoxiously. Like a hardened veteran of stomach pain in the past, I do my best to ignore it and I refuse to give it the satisfaction of affecting the end of my shift. Nice try, stomach. Do your worst. I dare you.
I try and reserve eating my apple until after my shift because the joy I feel in experiencing that first bite is wonderful. I usually stop where I am on the sidewalk, close my eyes, and enjoy the delicious sweetness, looking like an idiot, I am sure. Nevertheless, I put up with the hunger simply because I know the beauteous moment that awaits me.
Walking home everyday from work, I have the opportunity/misfortune to walk by one of my favorite places in Provo: J Dawgs.