Last of the Red Sauce over Macaroni noodles
Last of the pulled pork on sourdough
Cole Slaw (my hacked KFC version)
a cold brew
This is the week. Everything breaks. Everything is on a tight timeframe. This is the week in which everyone you know wants something. They all want something minor, but all 600 of them do. And that's fine, because you are made of better stuff and you can field those line drives right up the middle. Flexible. You can take it. Everything manages to get done no matter what happens.
What you can't take is slipping on the commitment you made to yourself to ensure that EACH dinner would be unique and would carry the iconic flavor that made you think of having it in the first place. That within one 24 period, leftovers would either go in the gullet or the freezer. OK, so you ate the same thing three times in a row. Who cares? Well, its a slippery slope, and pretty soon you find yourself gagging down a hot pocket, wondering why you've ripped out the ass of another pair of jeans and running at top speed to be late for another pointless, joyless meeting. Fast food isn't faster, it just makes you able to fit in more of the stressful things that food should deliver you from.
So knock it off. Prepare each meal as if it were a well-paying client that you owed your attention to. Then eat it as if your well-being depended on it.