As I hear the rain bounce off the roof of my car, I see how experienced drivers revert back to fledgling drivers, as if they have never read the "How to Drive" booklet or taken a driver's ed class. They forget to drive on a green light; red light somehow means "Go" now and yellow light is non-existent. Rarely is anyone effervescent; they are just short tempered, foul mouthed gnomes, and not a hint of their prior selves exists. I flinch as people jump into the street, ignoring the street lights, but what else is new? It's Boston, my beloved city. Although I am overjoyed and bubbly that it is the weekend, I am also saddened by the crazyness that it involves. For starters, my landlord wants to put in a new bathroom where the pantry once stood. Which is a headache to even comprehend, but what made the day worse was that it was the first weekend that I ate by myself in a looong time.
I couldn't fathom what I would want to eat, because I was back to cooking for myself again. But just because I am not sharing my meal with the Lovely Joanne, it doesn't mean that I can't eat a good meal. So I fixed myself an interesting plate. It didn't fill me up as I had hoped, but it was pleasing to take pictures of the food in the spirit of Joanne.
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