Feed me, Seymour...

The weekend is suddenly over.

And all I did was eat. Seriously.
We went grocery shopping on Friday night (I know -- je suis le party animal), and I've been delighted to have a refrigerator full of food. I've also been going to through an ugly obsession with ice cream bars -- vanilla ice cream, covered in milk chocolate and almond pieces (President's Choice brand, as Haagen Dazs, though superior, is far too expensive).

I didn't eat much last week. This seems to be my penance. Thank god I can go to the gym tomorrow.

Other things I did this weekend:

- forgot to call my parents
- knitted an excessively long scarf
- ate
- watched a lot of bad movies (oh god -- even Starship Troopers. What is wrong with me?)
- potentially ruined my friend's fledgling relationship
- didn't shower for two days (Ick.)
- ate
- started re-reading a book I've read a zillion times before, just because I like the setting
- had Saturday afternoon coffee with one of my favourite people in the world
- ate
- didn't work on an assignment that's due tomorrow


Perhaps I'm de-evolving. That must be it -- it's the only thing that can rationalize such a shocking weekend of poor-quality movies and inactivity.