One month

Last month, I posted about the woman in the UK that was going for a month without plastic, and how I couldn't figure out what I would be willing to go one month without, or why. As it turns out, I've gone the past two weeks without any meat, and the past four days without processed food. I'm not going to start wearing flip-flops and listening to STS9, and haven't started designing my art car for the Burn next year, but it is going well. Truth be told, I was eating a pile of chicken lo mein and shredded pork when it occurred to me that I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten a salad, or an apple, or any fresh fruit or vegetable. In fact, the closest I'd come to a vegetable that week was french fries. I'd love some french fries right now, but I'm going to stick with it for a little while longer.

I stopped drinking coffee too. At work one morning, B asked if it was the act of drinking coffee- the pavlovian response of getting it, or the actual caffeine that makes one feel awake in the morning. I think it is as much habit as anything else. I know people who can go to sleep early after a day off, get 9 hours of undisturbed sleep, and still feel like they cannot function without a cuppa joe first thing in the afternoon. Then again, I've gotten up feeling like I'd spent the last week with Kerauc & Cassady, and a sip of dark roasted bean juice makes everything fresh as a daisy.

I'm all for better living through chemistry, but I also think that everything under the sun can be overdone. Yin and Yang. Joy and Pain. Sunshine and Rain. Dog and Cat. Starsky and Hutch. Sanford and Son.