It’s an odd thing. But making bento had managed to drag me into work (as opposed to working from home) every day I’ve made it. Even the days where I spend part of the morning on the floor, wondering how I can have everything I want but still have really, really bad moments. There are times when I identify with Lord Peter Wimsey, and those are some of them.
Anyways, today’s bentos are exactly the same as yesterday, except the applesauce is replaced with hummus egg salad. Store-bought hummus, but I tasted it, and it was okay.
I thought the 20 minutes of bento-making before the commute, with maybe some prep time the night before, would get bothersome, but it’s become therapeutic instead. “I made something to look forwards to later! Take that, my twisted psychology!” It’s a good way to focus on the present and future, and lessens the impact of whatever random PTSD crap my brain wants to inflict today.
I can’t believe I’m still suffering the aftershocks of Wednesday (if you follow my Twitter, you’ll know that heading out into the early dark stormy windy morning after dreaming about my father’s face and finding my garbage can moved discombobulated me… a bit).
Fortunately: yay ferry ride!
Spontaneous ∂erivation 
Not to compare, but my morning breakfast ritual – which is, in and of itself, so dull it comes with a dust coating and a sensible pair of pants – has helped me get into work when I really needed and really didn’t want to. There’s something about stealing that little slice of time for myself, ceremony and all, even if it only involves sitting blearily at my desk, eating some dry crackers and half-and-half OJ & water while reading last night’s blogs and twitters. I could do it at home but it just wouldn’t be the same.
Hjalti,
True, it’s not the same at home.
I never thought I’d see something slightly magical about work. O.o It must be the getting-out-of-the-house thing. Or… something.