Sometimes I eat this for dinner:
The couscous is from a box...
And the tomatoes are from a can.
It takes about six minutes to prepare, there's not much nutritional value, and I add exactly zero spices, but man, it's warm and tasty and, as one Lia Carman used to say, "it fills the void."
This has been turned into a good meal on other nights; I'd probably sauté some garlic and onions, mix in some spinach, maybe toast up a Morningstar Farms Chik Patty, and sprinkle a bit of cheese on there. Delicious, right? You see, some days I actually care about food. But other days I get off work at 9 pm after I've spent the day trying to keep the attention of a zillion children whilst also making sure to cover some piano skills, talk about our love for music, and occasionally do a little therapy with them when they need it. You know, Talking Days. And my face hurts when I get home, from the talking, smiling, laughing, being tense, holding my breath... I'm halfway into my pajamas before I even put away my work bag.
It's days like this that this is my dinner. And it's so lovely. Today was lovely.
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