I'll be spending the better part of my late afternoon and all of my evening helping out with a fundraiser we're doing at work. And even though I just finished my lunch, I'm already worrying about when I'll get an opportunity to eat during all of this.

Ok, yes, this probably signifies some deep-seated issues I have with food, but I must confess that despite not living on a deserted island, in utter wildnerness or dire poverty, I sometimes get extremely nervous about where my next meal will come from. I know, it's silly. I'm in Manhattan. There are hundreds, nay, thousands of food establishments within walking distance. Many of which are open 24 hours. It's probably pretty rare that at any given time, I'm more than five minutes' walk (at worst) from a business that would be able to serve me some sort of sustenance at a moment's notice, day or night. And yet, I worry.

I don't like going more than a few hours without food. From experience, I know it doesn't go well: First, I get cranky, then I get weak and trembly-feeling, then I'm so hungry I can't even feel my hunger except in an endless pit, ravenous wild animal sort of way. Trust me, it's not a good scene.

So, as pretty much all books on the subject of eating right suggest, I try and eat several small meals each day. Which is a healthy and balanced thing to do. What I don't think is quite as healthy and balanced is the urge I sometimes get to stuff everything in my face before it goes away, for fear I won't have the opportunity to eat EVER AGAIN.

Case in point: Last weekend, J and I attended the Apple BBQ in Madison Square Park. It was fun and I enjoyed a good deal of meat. But what I was most excited for was the pie. While we were getting in line for some pulled pork shoulder, I suggested to J that maybe it would be a good idea to hit up the super-short dessert line first. Conversation went like this:

"It'll only take a second, we could eat pie while we wait!" I suggested cheerily.

"Eh," he said. "Why don't we get this first and save that for later?"

"But I want pie!"

"We'll get pie after," he reassured me.

"But what if they run out?" I said, a note of fear rising in my voice. I hadn't really considered the possibility until that moment, but there were a lot of people there. And how could I be sure they had enough pie?

"They won't run out," he said.

"BUT WHAT IF THEY DO? I am CRAVING PIE now. I. NEED. PIE."

I'd like to say I was kidding about this, but actually, I was truly more than a little concerned about the availability of the pie. I quietly started formulating a list of bakeries that might have good pie within walking distance, just in case it was necessary to hunt some down.

For the record, after we finished our pulled pork and cole slaw, there was still plenty of pie to be had. So I survived.