Mr. Meat and Potatoes and I have a habit of watching a TV show ad nauseum, until we “kill it.” We will rent an entire season of, say, Dexter, and watch it episode after episode until we either finish it or cannot stand another minute of it. We will put “Malcolm in the Middle” on the DVR, and watch three re-runs a day, until we want to puke if we see Lois in our living room again. And then one of us will finally admit we can’t take any more, that we’re over it, that we’ll probably go blind if we watch any more.

And, gentle readers, that same phenomenon happened to me this weekend, only it was food. I no longer can stand the sight of my kitchen. I cannot tolerate smells of sweet or savory. I don’t think I’ve ever said this before, and it will likely pass sooner than later, but as of now, I’m off food. I’m off cooking and I’m definitely off eating.

It started last weekend, when I cooked in mass quantities for a graduation party. And then this weekend, I made pies and pies and pies for Mike and Lulu’s hitchin’. And I made vats of beans, and cut up a veritable truckload of veggies. And then I got there, and I sat my bottom down, rested my swollen ankles, and started eating. Gorging, really. I didn’t have time to eat on Saturday, what with all the cooking and other hey-hey of the day, so when I finally got the chance, at dinner, I made good. I didn’t stop eating until I left, food-drunk, and drove home from Tonganoxie in a half-coma.

On Sunday I ate lunch at the Free State Brewery, and then went straight to Sonic and did not pass go, and got root beer floats for me and a friend’s kiddo to consume while sitting by the pool. And then home to make dinner – an abundance of ravioli and cheese and sauce and broccoli, and I am almost sick just thinking about it. She asked me for ice cream late that night for dessert, and I managed to resist, only because I knew her mother would kill me.

By Monday I was having trouble moving around, but I managed to make myself a pan of orange cinnamon rolls and eat THE WHOLE THING – I mean, it was a holiday, right?

That evening, I was feeling the hurt. I called Mr. Meat and Potatoes and lamented that there was no bread in the house, since all that sounded good was a cold American cheese sandwich with mustard, and why wasn’t he home to go to the store for me? I couldn’t imagine going to the grocery store, what with ALL THE FOOD there.

After a holiday weekend of gorging, there are few things that sound good. A processed cheese sandwich, a bowl of cereal, some edamame, or maybe a tortilla with a fresh tomato and avocado rolled inside. The thought of overly sweet or rich foods, the notion of a buttery biscuit or a fried anything will send me right over the edge. And when that happens to the likes of ME, you know it’s bad.

So, I apologize for the lack of substantive recipe today. But here’s a food-hangover hint: When you make edamame, do it in the microwave. A) You are less likely to overcook it. B) it’s so fast and easy, and when the sight of your kitchen turns your stomach, that’s a really big deal.

All you need to do is dump the amount you plan to consume into the properly sized bowl and pour water over it. Pop it in the microwave for about 5 minutes, depending on how much you’re doing (I usually do about half a bag at a time, for just me), then drain off the water, and liberally apply kosher salt. Perfecto. And, it won’t cause you to return all those Memorial Day hamburgers to their maker before their time.