Damn it, I Need Taquitos

It's midnight central standard time and I was in bed reading until 30 minutes ago.
My mind kept wandering, ricocheting from memory to memory until I realized what I needed was to get up, log on and warm up some beef taquitos.
For the uninitiated, a beef taquito is a thin, tightly rolled corn tortilla stuffed with slightly spicy beef and I think fried, then frozen and ready for reheating.
You dip them in salsa, sour cream or guacamole and wolf them down by the half dozen.
It's insane to eat 300 calories worth of taquitos at this hour, but I needed comfort and a woman just can't touch the kind of comfort a fist full of taquitos provides.
I am not in a depressed state of mind anymore.
After 2001 was finally over, I realized it was a tabula rasa and I could start to feel alive again.
Now I am in a rather pleasant fugue state.
Last night at the party I attended, at least 15 friends asked where I have been, with what looked like genuine concern in their eyes.
I hadn't realized that I'd been turning down almost every dinner and cocktail party invitation I'd received for the last three months.
I just said, "Uh, I've been stupid from anesthetics, and I was nursing a broken heart."
Talk about a conversation stopper.
They'd just say, "Aww, are you okay now?" and I'd say, "Yes," then change the subject.
I think I am okay. I can almost sleep six hours straight now without having to take any conk-out pills. Usually.
But tonight, my belly is warm from taquitos, my kitties are asleep in my bed waiting for me, and I think I'll pray for another day of fugue.
Women tire me out. Thinking about them tires me out. I can't figure out the ones from my past, and those in my present are even more confusing.
Taquitos, I understand. You warm them up and eat them.
Women should be so uncomplicated.