On my days off, I clean. By 1:30 in the afternoon my stomach reminds me to eat while I am rushing around trying to finish before he gets home. I pull out a bag of uncooked tortellini’s from the cabinet and pick one from the bag to eat. I’m not really sure if it is okay to eat them uncooked, but I do anyway. The cat is always curious about what I am doing, he sits on the table and watches me type and then eat another tortellini. Is it too much effort to cook them, or do they just taste better this way? I decide to cook them after looking into the half emptied bag. Throwing them into a pot of boiling water on the stove is not enough I have to set the timer too, of course subtracting 5 minutes to keep them as el dente as possible, and another 2 minutes for my un-calibrated stove. So why write a blog? Why not? I can’t find any harm other than a Freudian slip that I have decided I will not let myself backspace. The tortellini’s are done, just need to douse them with butter, from a butter dish and Parmesan cheese. I never saw a need for a butter dish before, why can’t the butter sit on the wrapper is came in? My husband wanted one, he likes to do thoughtful things like that, a bottle inside of a basket, a box put away in another box. I pour a glass of blue juice, I tastes like red wine. They are better cooked. You never do really know how something is until you are doing it, like trying to get pregnant. First you stop doing all of the bad things you once did, like drinking and smoking, caffeine, caffeine is the hardest. Then every time you feel tense you know it can’t be good for your body. You do this for a month and then two even before you are pregnant, you take the vitamins. The hard part is waiting and trying to get pregnant. It is a waiting game, and all the while you are not pregnant it is the schrodinger’s cat and his game that get the best of you. Off to fold the laundry, Bryan will get the rest over the weekend. Ah the weekends, how I miss thee so.