There's this point, as the date of my departure for a race (or a training camp in the case) draws near, where I instinctively start to prepare. Without realizing it. Without really meaning to (that's what instinctively means, right?). But nevertheless, my mind starts to get ready, and thus, in some ways, my apartment does to. I wash all my laundry (so that I'm sure to have clean Exergy branded clothing once I need to pack). I return all my library books (so I don't have to pay that dastardly ten-cents-per-day late-fee). And, most importantly, I stop buying food. This latter response, nearly unconscious, has probably the largest impact on my life. I realize that hey -- I am leaving for Ventura in two days! If I were to say, go buy milk and cereal, I probably wouldn't eat it all before I leave. The odds that said milk would go rancid whilst I'm away is slim -- and yet I fear. This trip is a mere ten days. The one after this will be for a whole month. And thus, I do not buy. Experience, AKA old age, AKA being really set in my ways has taught me to prepare for this scenario by stocking canned milk in my larder. I always keep a few cans handy for when the times get tough or the living gets lean -- what was I, born during the great depression? However, my desire to consume all my food before it spoils is deeply rooted, and unjostleable. So canned milk it shall be with my cereal. Until I'm out of cereal. At which point it shall be toast. Until I'm out of toast. And then eggs, and tortillas, and so on.
It's happening again. And I love it. Let's go training camp -- my fridge is empty.