Ever since I got covid I’ve been cooking more than I have in years. Its because I only feel like eating certain things. Soup is one of those things and I can’t get enough of it. Luckily Jon feels the same way.
So this morning I picked up some vegetables and made lentil soup and tomato soup. Both recipes are easy. It’s more chopping than anything else, which works for me.
It feels like I’ve been making soup all day. I can hardly remember anything else I did, besides the laundry and morning animal chores. Now it’s 5pm and it feels much later than it should be.
I also feel like I’m not making sense and I probably shouldn’t even be trying to write, because there are too many thoughts crowding my head and I can’t find the words for them.
I know this must be covid messing with my brain. Because it’s not something I’ve felt before. Except may it feels a little like being stoned. But even that’s not right either.
Maybe I’m feeling like all the different ingredients in the lentil soup I made today, before they got blended together into something cohesive.
It’s like I just don’t fit together. Not scatterered, so much as every part of me and each separate thought is bumping into each other and not able to settle.
I think I’ll just stop writing now. I took some good pictures of the hens, I’ll post them instead.