Eating by the clock happens to be a GIANT pet peeve of mine. But two weeks of family vacay at the Lake made me eat like a linebacker after a Monday night game. We woke up to the smell of something frying every single day. And before the breakfast dishes were done, we would have a lengthy discussion on what we were going to do for lunch. Seriously? Did we need lunch? We had just eaten pancakes, eggs, cheesy potato casserole and bacon... at 10am. We couldn't possibly have been hungry for lunch.
Again after lunch the favorite topic was what to do for dinner. Should we try the new restaurant in town? Or grill by the water? Because if we didn't eat again by 6pm, we might parish? (None of us were in danger of withering away by skipping a meal... or 10). We didn't look at our watches to see when it was time to pee. Why did we look at them to see when it was time to eat?