The microwave became his best friend or the chef of his kitchen. The only thing he’d buy were microwaveable meals, mac and cheese and other pasta bakes. He trusted the Mac and cheese the most the others kind of freaked him out. He didn’t trust if people were refrigerating it properly throughout the whole life time. He imagined one of the guys he knew at the store, and he didn’t trust him.
He says knew, but he didn’t know him, just saw him observed, if he still was in
Spacecity
he could check everything about him. He checked LinkedIn and other cites and couldn’t find anything.
How could he have had better food in some shit space ship. But how could he let himself stoop this low. He had told everyone what he had wanted to do he wanted to cook and make all the food he couldn’t up there.
That changed after he got back he didn’t know why it was sort of a habit that formed and he just didn’t really want to change. Couldn’t really change? Logically he wanted to but he just couldn’t do it. So instead he sort of just sort of kept doing it, almost like he had nothing else to do.