Inspired by spotting a rat in my apartment the other day, I decided to watch Ratatouille in hopes of being a little less freaked out. It totally worked (for that night), but I also came away with something else. There’s a scene where the scary food critic claims that if he tries a food he does not love, he does not swallow. This got me thinking–Why do I eat random shit sometimes that isn’t even that great? Why don’t I try to make every meal special, and see what happens. My friend Rebecca used to make fun of me for making scrambled eggs, throwing some turkey on top and calling it a meal and maybe she was onto something. I always attempt to make something nice when other people are involved so why not do it when it’s just me. The next night….
My FIRST poached egg!! Needed a little surgery but I’ll call it a success.