Drifting the sea in a cup 'o salt

Phase two: The Cleanse

Observation from the outer banks of fringe.

The liquid diet is much easier than I predicted. However, the mission nearly self-destructed on the launchpad. I learnt a valuable lesson: following directions while extreme dieting is crucial. Instead of using sea salt in the morning 32oz salt water drink, I cut corners with iodized table salt. A pinch tossed over the shoulder for the challenge and Lot's wife. I only made that mistake on Day One, after it took me four hours to gut down the East River. Drinking table salt water ranks up there with licking a 9-volt battery or chomping down on foil with a mouth full of amalgam fillings. (The other days of sea salt water only took an hour.)

Jaron gave me the heads up to situate my mornings near a fully functional restroom with poor acoustics. If the evolutionist community's claims are founded regarding our ocean origins, then the way my bowels fast tracked the salt water out of my body leads me to believe our digestive systems still holds a grudge for the species changing scenery. Columbia, T minus 10 seconds until complete evacuation. The bottom of that bottle causes a swift shuffle, shuffle, plop, plop. Repeated for thirty excited minutes. Then the rest of my waking hours are spent sipping on the watery lemon cayenne maple syrup vat.

The biggest take-away from this brief cleanse experiment is how bored I am. The absence of food during the cleanse has yet to drive me to hallucination fueled hunger rage, as predicted. There are no hunger pains. I am just stuck in the waiting room of life. Sitting tight until I add back eating, which is a good portion of my day-to-day existence. This is what I imagine life would resemble if sleep got dropped from the required voluntary functions. Just counting the tick tocks in the middle of the night.

The discussing, planning, preparing, and consuming of food is far more consequential to human social structures than I ever expected. Sitting at a table with no food on my plate while others consume sets off primal alarm bells. The tribe does not relax well when one is going without. Hunter instincts take over. Was the kill not large enough?  Nurturing kicks in too. Are you feeling ill? Nope, just cleansing the system with a little flaming citrus brew and hoping their restrooms play loud death metal.