Slicing into my favorite bread, freshly baked so as to tempt myself, I put the knife down, turned away. Nah, I think, I don't want it.
-Here's butter. Have as much as you like.
Don't want any.
-Here is your favorite vegetable soup: pepperpot, heated up nicely. Come on, you have to eat.
I don't feel like it.
-Can you smell and taste? Maybe you caught the Covid?
I can smell and taste.
-How about a slice of cheese on that black bread? No? Drive-through burger and fries -- your favorite junk food? Or just the fries. Or -- ice cream?
Couldn't face it. Can't imagine. The idea makes me queasy.
-There's a special-occasion steak in the freezer.
Meat, I definitely could not eat.
-What's wrong?
Turmoil and violence in our country. For no good reason. Totally unnecessary. Meant to desecrate what so many of us love and honor and fought for, in some cases died for: democracy, the democratic process, our country's principles, our Constitution.
-Let's cut brush all day and caulk cracks in the walls all evening, and that will stir up an appetite for sure.
Call me back after January 20.
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