I was inexplicably tired today, despite all that Spanish food last night. Maybe the saltwater based beer had ruined me. Somehow I’d also strained some of the muscles in the back of my neck, and so I walked around today feeling quite gloomy and broken. I almost made the mistake of getting a burger for lunch: if you’re resorting to fried food before we even reach Wednesday, it’s a sign the week is running away out of control.
Luckily, I was too lazy to walk all the way over to Triple O’s in Asia Square, so I got a salad instead. That’s right, I’m using my lack of willpower to compensate for my lack of willpower. However, this sort of mental exertion is incredibly exhausting. It did make me realise why it was so easy to lose weight when I had my diet last year: all I did was write down in advance what I was going to eat, and then I didn’t spend time, money and calories eating other crap that tempted me. It’s not quite on a par with Obama only wearing blue suits, or Mark Zuckerburg and his grey hoodies, but it’s interesting how much you can modify your life with just a few tweaks.
I went to my Spanish class tonight and it focussed on food, which pleased me greatly although I’d forgotten what pisto manchego was made out of; if I’d been paying more attention to the menu last night I’d have remembered it had an egg on it. And some other stuff.
Yes, basically Spanish food is all sorts of demented after-pub food. Who but a drunkard would contemplate tomato soup that hadn’t even been warmed through?
Not that I’d voice such opinions in front of my Spanish teacher. We know little about our teacher, except that she has three cats, and a boyfriend who is employed by, or owns, a vineyard in Spain. Both of these are handy things, as it means you have cats and a supply of wine. If I was in her position, I’d probably just be drunk, stroking a cat, rather than trying to teach people to speak Spanish.
Oh, and she has a sister-in-law in Burgos, a small town to the north of Madrid where I went for a two day conference many years ago. There is precious little in Burgos, we agreed. If I could say in Spanish "There is nothing except for two nuns and a conference centre" then I would have, but sadly I think that phrase is too advanced for me.