My First 26.2

It's easier to control what food goes from the fridge to my mouth when I control what food goes into the fridge in the first place. My girlfriend and I recently bought a condo--a condo that is still being constructed--and our apartment lease ran out today. What does that mean? That means all of our earthly possessions are stacked to the ceiling in my parents' garage and we are officially homeless and bunking out like a couple of unemployed Gen-Xers at the 'rents once again.

Happily we are not actually unemployed, unhappily I now live in a house with a fridge packed with cheese. My parents had a dinner party last night and there's tonnes of leftover fromage.

Gruyère, emmental, brie, camembert, blue, and a few other stinky cheeses I don't know the names of. Plus there's a big tub of cottage cheese and a couple bricks of cream cheese as well. I've been slowly but surely picking at all of these cheeses all day long--in combination with the abundant bagels, crackers, and leftover baguettes that we are well stocked with as well.

My supermarket self-control is excellent. I can walk up and down the isles and pick up mostly healthy--nutrient dense, whole grain, not processed--stuff. My lazy Sunday lounging near a kitchen filled with fatty cheeses and carby white breads self-control is non-existent.

The condo should be ready in a month. Let's hope I don't develop diabetes in that time.

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