There are moments, usually when I'm away from the computer, when I ponder what I feel are deep thoughts. Not Jack Handey-type deep thoughts, mind. The real thing. Go figure.

It would seem that since I can't make my life work the way I want, I will make myself feel infinitesimally more in control by eating my food the way I want to, damnit.

I make piles consisting of one of each thing on my plate. Homemade hor d'oeuvres, if you will. I eat the afore-mentioned Cheetos with a toothpick, so as not to give away the fact that I've inhaled an entire bag while watching a rerun of Trading Spaces for the gazillionth time. I add and shake off chip dip/salsa until I achieve 'perfect coating'. Apples are cored and the nasty centres shaved out with a paring knife, grapefruits are peeled and the horrid rind cut off. This is a process that takes around 40 minutes and leaves my fingers all pruny. Etc and so on.

Just why am I letting you in on what freak I am? Good question. I guess I'm looking for someone out there to empathize. I'm betting I'm not the only one with weird food-psychosis skeletons in their pantry.

Hey, maybe if I work a little at easing up on the food thing, I can use that energy to get more of a handle on the rest of my life? Hmmm.