Diary of a Microwave Addict

I really need to start cooking.

I bought an Instant Pot a year (or two?) ago and made the one meal I know how to cook—beef stew. And it was good (and quick)! I told myself I was going to embark on a new wave of cooking—experimenting with delicious and nutritious recipes.

And then I immediately went back to microwaving my frozen dinners.

I’m so reliant on the microwave to cook my frozen meals that if it ever conks out, I’ll be in serious danger of starving to death.

Fridge Wars

Why don’t I cook? While the Former Houseguest was here, I always told myself it was because she occupied the lion’s share of the fridge (and hogged my stove). The lower half always had an abundance of vegetables, other ingredients, and delectable snacks. Technically, we “shared” the fridge, but my shelves were mostly for storing my cache of Coke Zero, bags of pre-made salad, and my Kerrygold butter.

Her things were constantly encroaching on my territory as she looked for new space, as if she were the Russia of our fridge.

Now the freezer–that was more my domain, though if I didn’t keep a sharp eye on it, the Former Houseguest would begin encroaching there, too.

Now, to be fair, she did cook a lot, so one could argue she needed more space–which she argued all the time. And not just regarding the fridge. Like I said, she’s very Russian in her outlook on other people’s “unused” territory.

Pleasant cooking smells frequently wafted through the house, and the Former Houseguest would often generously offer me some. Sadly, those days are gone

When she moved out, the fridge was suddenly all mine. I could stock its chilled expanse with all the delicious ingredients I needed to make nutritious, mouthwatering meals.

The Great Refrigerator Decline

Unfortunately, that’s not what I did.

This is what my fridge looked like a month after the Former Houseguest had departed (Don’t be fooled by the apples in the plastic bag—they’d been there for at least 8 months, yet, surprisingly, they still looked edible, though no way in hell was I eating them).

A few slices of cheese to melt onto small tortillas. Kerrygold butter for spreading on toast–though I was out of bread. So-called baby carrots to dip into peanut butter–which I was also out of (by the way, the Former Houseguest thinks that’s a weird snack. What’s your opinion?).

I was even running low on Coke Zero.

This is what happens when a manchild is left to his own devices

The freezer didn’t look much better.

(When frozen food is out of season, single men have to resort to foraging for hamburgers and pizza.)

(A sad day in the Manatee household as one of my two remaining frozen meals became an offering to the trash can god.)

The Medical Community Intervenes

Anyway, after my last bloodwork, I need to improve my eating habits. You know–cut down on the usual culprits: salt, sugar, fats–all the tasty stuff. The doctor says I should eat way less processed food, which honestly feels like a culturally insensitive attack on my way of life.

Oh, I’m also supposed to exercise more. Apparently, walking around looking for forgotten snacks in cupboards doesn’t count.

So, I need to go outside and clean my grill and evict the black widow that’s guarding it. I also need to dust off the Instant Pot and the criminally underused air fryer, which I bought primarily to reheat pizza because the microwave just turns it into a rubbery crime against nature.

Anyway, I’ll keep you all updated on this food situation, aka crisis, as it continues to evolve.