As promised, this post throws out a bit about how I eat. If you’re expecting nifty, cost- and space-efficient, back-road shortcuts to cooking up good meals, are you ready to be disappointed? I almost entirely eat out. In fact, I kid you not, exactly as I typed that last sentence, an enormous burger was set down in front of me at the restaurant at which I now sit.
I have a box of pasta, a couple packets of ramen, a bottle of good olive oil, and some spices sitting in one of my storage bins in my van. I have some light cooking gear. But I haven’t used it. In fact, the closest I’ve come to cooking is adding Frank’s Red Hot sauce from my own stash to the food I’ve bought elsewhere. The cost-efficiency of my diet is probably my van-life’s biggest failure so far. I’m not eating particularly unhealthily, but I would guess I average around $7 for lunch and around $6 for dinner. Yes, I spent more money on lunch- I tend to eat out with my coworkers, and we go to decent, white-collar-lunch type places. When I eat dinner, which I sometimes don’t, I tend to get, for example, the sub of the day from Harris Teeter, which is around $3, or two slices from Slice of Life (best pizza downtown, possibly the best in Wilmington, though I’d have to have it side-by-side with Vito’s from Wrightsville Beach to say for sure) for about 5$.
Breakfast, though, I’m proud of. For the past couple weeks, as often as I can, I get a regionally farmed peach, locally roasted coffee, and a locally baked bagel from a hippy-ish grocery store called Carolina Farmin’ (there is no “g”). It costs a little over two bucks, tastes good, aint too bad for me, and is good for society, dammit. I beleive that beats McDonald’s breakfast on, oh, about every dimension. And I never ate that good a breakfast when I lived in an apartment.
And now, a confession. Every Thursday, for the past 5 weeks, in exchange for free dinner and drinks, I’ve done something of which I am quite ashamed. I have watched the television atrocity “Jersey Shore”. I know. I’m sorry. I attend a weekly viewing party thrown by a rotating set of my coworkers, and they serve food and drinks. I go, I enjoy the dining and the company, and I watch the show. I’ve made it clear that I’m only there for the food, which everyone seems surprisingly okay with. Still, they’re starting to think I secretly like the show, and I can’t really blame them – I mean, I keep showing up. But I really don’t like the show. It makes me sad, or angry, that it exists. Every week, at the end of the show, belly full and hunger forgotten, I tell myself, ‘this is it; this is the last week. This show is making me dumber, and it’s not worth it.’ But every week, I get out of band practice on Thursday night, and I have the choice of eating alone in the van and going to sleep, or going to warm, rowdy shindig and eating and drinking with people I like. What would you do?
Anyway, van life’s good. It’s still getting cooler, which as a van-liver, I love. Sleeping in on the weekend used to be a problem- that is, the problem is that I couldn’t because it would get too hot. Today, I slept in till almost 11 before the heat woke me up. Grand.
In other news, while I’ve still never been told to move, today I got my first parking ticket. I forgot that downtown, the meter’s still kick in on Saturday mornings. Fifteen bucks. Oh well.