“I’m going to Wendy’s; do you want me to pick you up anything?”

It’s almost 2 p.m. and we’re finally getting around to eating. My office doesn’t have any windows, so time is usually not a determing factor in when I eat, as I am usually oblivious to any sort of time passing, seasons changing or general variations in weather patterns.

“Do I want anything,” I repeated. “No. Wait. Yes, yes I do. I do want something. I’m concentrating on eating; it’s my new thing. Eating.”

She stared at me.

“Eating is your new thing?”

“Yeah, just trust me on this one, I’m really concentrating on eating regularly.”

When she mentioned Wendy’s, all my anorexic alarms went off, even though they have been out of commission for almost 20 years. They haven’t gathered a shred of rust, and their sound and tonal quality are still perfectly tuned. Fast food is a particular offender. It’s like those car alarms that go off when you merely look mischieviously at the hood ornament. Regular food sets them off too. It makes things like basic nutrition really difficult.

That was supposed to be funny. I think it probably wasn’t.

At any rate, I’m concentrating on eating.

“Ok, but here’s the thing,” I said. “I walked out of the house today without my purse, so I have to pay you back tomorrow, is that ok?”

She stared at me.

“You walked out of the house without your purse?”

“Yes, I walked out of the house without my purse and I’m concetrating on eating; I have a shrink to work me through these things, no worries,” I said.

She stared at me.

Such is the way of things when you walk around in see-through skin, and don’t know enough to shut your mouth about your therapy, or your various neuroses. The staring responses usually shake me a bit- I firmly believe that everyone suffers from various neuroses, but the staring response leads me to believe that maybe they don’t. Maybe I really am a head case.

She stared.

“You seemed a lot more together before those two statements.”

We laughed, because we thought that was funny. It really was funny; it didn’t have any malicious intent or overtones or undertones or whatever to it. It was a way to diffuse a somewhat uncomfortable moment. Mental health is always uncomfortable. Not necessarily for the mental health-ee, but for the people around them. Anyways, you probably had to be there, but it was supposed to be funny.

I think it probably wasn’t.