Day Five and still alive, though my unfortunate wife might quibble with the definition. Alas, she was laid low not by any weakling fad diet but by some form of insidious virus. Morale among the men dropped accordingly, particularly since the plague struck our camp chef. Eating a Whole Thirty diet without an accomplished culinary specialist on board is no joke.
Today I subsisted primarily on eggs, coffee, fruit, and mixed nuts from Costco. Then I went to Costco this afternoon to replenish the milk supplies (for those happy folk who still bathe themselves in it), where I discovered that the mixed nuts I had been carelessly consuming cost about three times what I had surmised. The moral of the story is either that an appeased belly has no price or one should go easy on the nuts. At the moment I’m leaning toward the latter.
Also resulting from the incapacitation of our praised lady of the kitchen, I purchased a Costco take-and-bake pizza for the kids. Personally, I ate ground beef patties and rabbit food, and I drank saliva. I don’t think a Costco pizza and the thought of homebrewed beer on tap has ever been quite this appealing.
We’re one-sixth the way through this diet thing, and morale is fair.