Decisions

Sometimes you come home from rehearsal and you have a giant to-do list, featuring things like homework, producing chores for the show that opens in 12 days (aaaah), making a giant cardboard circular sign (actually that technically falls under producing chores), applying to various schmancy playwriting contests that do things like require a CDR with all of your documents when you are ALREADY SENDING THEM IN TRIPLICATE.

And, instead of doing one or some or any of the things on your to-do list, you start cooking because . . . well, you're starving, and there are things in the fridge that can turn into food, but very little that can be eaten w/o being cooked. So, now it's an hour and a half later and the to-do list is still as long and you're busy pretty much all of tomorrow, but . . . you have made a tuna casserole (complete with corn-flake crust) and are roasting a chicken and cooking greens so as to have meals for the rest of the week. Because that's the other thing. I kind of hate eating out around campus. Whatever you eat for dinner (barring Mamoun's or Noodle which are absurdly cheap) will cost around $10 and be thoroughly unexceptional. I have a high/low relationship with food . . . either it's homemade and cheap or it's a restaurant and nice and better in some way than home. $10 worth of lousy Pad Thai is a week's worth of dinners, or a couple used books, or a fifth of a haircut.

And I'll figure out the damn playwriting contests once the chicken is done.

Postscript for all you feminists out there: Beloved Husband is actually in more rehearsals than I am, and won't be getting home till midnight. But he made linguine with tomatoes and cannellini beans on Sunday, so we can't be too mad at him.