I want a piece of myself for apple pie bingeing, but I digress.

Allow me to set the stage.

I am a restaurant addict.

Or I was before settling into Coronaville.

I was always obsessed with trying new restaurants all over the world.

Pre-Covid I posted in depth restaurant reviews every Thursday.

Now I am mostly happily chained to the stove and the cutting board which I wash at least 5 times a day.

In keeping with our rigid quarantine routine we hit the beach every Saturday and Sunday and dine out in our car at lunchtime with takeout scheduled for Friday and Saturday nights.

Lately, I have hated every single thing I have ordered.

Hamburgers are cold, salads have no distinguishing flavor, sushi tastes fishy, chicken is dry and drowned in herbs.

I think home cooking and attempting to master my culinary acumen has made me more critical of takeout which in turn has become less appealing.

Which brings me to a discussion I just had with a friend.

I recently COVID binged.

Last Saturday all I ate was a toasted bagel with lox schmear at 6:30am on the beach.

Lunch and dinner take away sucked so I made a dramatic rim shot with both meals.

Around 8:30pm I was hangry.

I approached the refrigerator and looked in expecting Queen E. to have made a heavenly appearance and magically whipped up brisket, roasted potatoes and her famous cole slaw, but, alas,  the only appealing item was an apple pie.

I am not a pie person.

My husband loves apple pie.

I grabbed the box and headed to the bedroom to resume watching Amy Poehler’s new film, Moxie.

Big mistake. Huge!

Never remove a box, bag or carton of anything edible from the kitchen into any room with a TV.

Unsurprisingly, I binged.

I woke up at 2am guilt ridden and nauseous.

I blame it on the pandemic.

Deflection and rationalization are great quarantine tools.

Alrighty then…now that I have genuflected and confessed to my sins I need to go prepare dinner.

No takeout for me.