On my way home from the gym tonight I learned something, that while not earth shattering, is still enough to leave me saddened and tired. My excitement to to produce a batch of home made pasta seemed overwhelming so I just began pulling stuff from the fridge. Some left over cheese. The loaf of bread I baked over the week end. The aioli I made on Saturday. Soon, a grilled cheese landed on the cutting board, oozing cheese and mustard and steam. I quartered it and ate it while I made another one. I stood there eating, feeling the cheese congealing in my beard, still saddened, but somehow fortified all the same.
I just bought a pasta machine.
I’ll never be thin again.