daverea.com

I’ve been so busy this last week that I’ve actually had to schedule time out to breathe. And eat food. So naturally, when faced with fires to put out, busy days at work, evenings planned out to 5-minute resolution and an occasionally-recognized need to sleep, blogging has taken a back seat.

Tonight, however, is my “me night” – during which I tie up all the loose ends and tattered remains of my personal life that have also taken a back seat. Little things – like paying bills. Or taking out the garbage. Or standing in my apartment, realizing that it looks like someone detonated a low yield nuclear device, and taking an hour out just to put stuff away.

Cleaning? Ho no, that’ll take a whole weekend at the rate I’m going.

Occupying yourself this much has a tendency to wear on you. That’s why I try not to do it. Seriously – most weeks are not this crazy. Most weeks, I don’t get that “my head is going to explode” feeling. But this week, there were just a few extra straws on this camel’s back.

Now it goes without saying that two things go out the window on weeks like this – sleep and proper nourishment. By some combination of good planning and sheer dumb luck, I’ve managed to get a decent amount of sleep this week. But food? That’s another matter. Breakfasts have consisted of Quaker Instant Oatmeal cereal, nuked in a mug and inhaled sometime between dressing myself and grabbing my car keys. The week’s evening dining has depleted my once-formidable supply of frozen entrees. Which brings me to the true subject of this post…

Do not, under any circumstances, ever buy frozen fettucine alfredo. Alfredo sauce is not fast food. It was never meant to be fast food, or to be microwaved from -5°C to piping hot in under 4 minutes. Alfredo sauce was meant to be hand crafted, conjoured up from cream and cheese and fine spices. I’ve done it, and it’s not easy. It’s not supposed to be, damnit.

This is the reason the frozen fettucine alfredo sat in my freezer until last – until there was no alternative. Aye, there’s the rub. For when you leave the frozen fettucine alfredo until last, you suddenly find yourself with no alternative. And unless you want to choke down instant oatmeal for dinner, you’d better plan on nuking up that heinous defamation of Italian cooking.

Note to self: Hey Self, how’s about after you get back from this weekend’s short-notice trip to Virginia, we schedule in a trip to the supermarket to buy some real food?