Renee. Get the handcuffs. I know what you’re thinking, but that’s not it. Get your mind out of the gutter and into the kitchen. No, we aren’t getting kinky in the kitchen.
Actually, I’m getting kinky in the kitchen. I’m having a love affair with the refrigerator. I’ve got it filled with all kinds of delicious food. I loaded it with things I would never buy. Afterall, if we are going to be stuck at home for a long while, we might as well eat.
Fridge loves me. She calls to me constantly. “Oh Stewart, I’m waiting for you.” She longs for TV commercials, knowing that I’ll come to her and empty her of her contents. My new favorite is Hawaiian rolls covered in cream cheese and smeared with olive bruschetta.
Nightly, I go to her and she spews her contents into my pots and pans as I cook masterful, unhealthy, calorie and fat ladened dinners. I’m the author of a healthy lifestyle book, yet I can’t get my act together. I’m on the “I’m bored, I don’t give a crap” wagon. It would be a great diet to write a book about. I think I’ll call it “Eat Yourself to Death “or “Fridge Loves Me and I Love Her.”
Seriously, I have two choices. The first is to buy new clothes. MTailor can measure me from home and ship me new pants (it’s pretty cool). I already bought suspenders. I’ll also need a forklift to get around. The second choice is to have Renee handcuff me to the bed.
Choice number 2 wins! Renee, get the handcuffs. And while you’re at it. Let’s figure out how, cuffed to the bed, I can burn calories.