Somebody please help me step away from the refrigerator

Oh good lord.  I'm pretty sure I just undid the effects of all the dieting of the week.  This is what happens when I'm home alone.

I remembered, just in time, that I was up an hour so I could leave early today.  I got home mid afternoon.  What to do?  I remembered that there was a Fat Tire in the fridge.  Mmmmm tasty beer.  I opened the fridge, and I noticed the bacon.  Mmmm tasty bacon.  So I had a beer and a slice of turkey bacon.

The problem is that after the beer my inhibitions were lowered.

After that, I had a little bag of Doritos.  And another beer (vanilla porter, this time).  Uh oh.

I think I ate a slice of pizza.  And a couple of slices of pickles.  And then, virtuously, some sliced up .. um.. what are those things called? That are crunchy?  Celery.  Yeah.  Celery.

Then I decided it would be good if I left the vicinity of the kitchen.

I went and watched a documentary about Herman Mudgett, AKA HH Holmes, America's first serial killer.  A cheerful film, appropriate to the season.

Then, unfortunately, I wandered toward the back of the house again.  I got some lemon lime seltzer water out of the fridge.  And some lemon sorbet.  And then a blueberry pancake.

I'm going to have to go to bed early or there isn't going to be any food left when JD gets home.

I was thinking that the weekend would be a brief reintroduction to bachelor life, but when I lived alone?  I never had this much food in the house.  It is hard to make a pig of yourself with a box of Cheerios, some spoiled milk, and a half full bottle of ketchup.  But when your everloving husband has left most of a pizza, two quarts of blueberry pancakes, several liquid quarts of beer, and I don't know what else but the fridge is full?  It is easy to make a pig of yourself.

Wish me luck on eating healthy tomorrow.  But save your breath on Sunday, because I'm going to the Renaissance Festival.  I'm going to wear a wench outfit (without the stupid squeezy bodice, but don't worry, I'll be covered).  I'm going to drink beer and leer at men in tights.  And there is a very good chance that I'm going to eat something on a stick.