I See Fed People

I broke a couple of my little rules on Sunday Night.

First Broken Rule?, I had guests over. I almost NEVER do this. While Friday night and Saturday find me eager to be social, Sunday is about ME. It’s about finding the perfect balance of solitude, sloth, and the gentle sort of productivity that demands little effort but scrubs the soul -  It’s about making sure I have enough clean socks for the week, a perfectly soft loaf of honey-tinged bread to gnaw on, and the other emotional mise-en-place that I’ll require by whatever time on Monday morning I realize the snooze button is no longer a viable option.

Second Broken Rule?  Dinner consisted of something I had never made before… Candidly, the main course I had never even TRIED before, leaving me without an expected rhythm to its preparation (as if I am the model of grace under other circumstances) but more importantly, without a frame of reference when assessing its taste or texture.  Which, for something with sharper flavors, does make a few demands.

Anyway, I learned a few things.
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