Eating popcorn for dinner

Last night I had popcorn for dinner. I was watching Rachel Maddow for the first time in weeks. It used to be our habit to watch her while we ate something delicious J cooked up - rockfish in miso sauce or stir fry with snowpeas. As the political climate in our country blew the end off the thermometer I found I couldn’t watch her, or anyone. I had to read the newspaper - partly because the news was a day old and we were still standing. Partly because I could cruise through the dumpster fires reported in the paper at my own speed, ignoring or inquiring as my mood allowed. Partly because television is overheated: emotional tone is high. A paper paper doesn’t have blaring commercials and toxic tones of voice.

I was eating popcorn because the day, the week, the last year has gone bad. And some nights the only thing that made sense was to go with the flow and eat junk food in keeping with the junk times. Usually I meet the head-on collision of dystopia with healthy fish and veggies, sound sleep, long walks. But sometimes I can’t do any of that. Popcorn is all I can stomach, like life is a bad movie made better with a big bag of greasy popcorn.