An Ode to the Late-Night Snack
At certain times consuming a little bit of something hits different.
Like during the dark part of the night when your’e all alone and left completely to your own devices.
There’s nobody around to see what you eat or how you eat it.
(On several occasions I’ve consumed potato chips from a bag, plucked out by chopsticks.)
Through the years I’ve grown fond of eating by myself at my couch, the food coming off my coffee table, or sometimes in bed, in the interest of honesty — and I like to keep somewhat strange hours, so my late-night snacking makes sense to me.
I’m not sure I’d recommend it to just anybody. It takes a certain kind of person (special in a way, even, maybe) to slumber in shifts the way I do — to be on the clock when most are sawing logs, dreaming their little dreams.
I personally am a day-dreamer in the absolute literal sense. I go off to sleep in the sunshine because I don’t want to see the day when it’s dying.
They (who the fuck are “they,” by the way?) say there are certain times of day you’re supposed to eat, and it’s generally not at or around three in the morning, but that’s when I love to do it.
I’m something of a wild card and I like it that way.
I didn’t make the rules. Didn’t have any input. Wasn’t consulted in any way, shape or form.
So as such I do not respect said rules, or adhere to them — and I’ve never been much of a fan of guidelines.
I don’t really like to add color to my life within the proverbial lines — and try as I might I’m not great at doing what I’m allegedly supposed to do.
Let me ask you this: Have you ever hit the sack with a Crunchwrap Supreme by your side for comfort? If not then I question whether you’ve ever Fourth-Meal’d, let alone Lived Más — and I propose that you try it.
Ever get out of bed to eat a bite or two of cheesecake or peanut butter or peanut butter cheesecake before slipping back into your room to hide under the covers while you half-mindedly watch a mindless sitcom series of episodes you’ve…