here today

 

and they procreate

Lasagna seems a simple dish.  It is not.  It requires many mixing bowls, more ingredients than anyone tasting it will ever know that you used, and the ability to do ten things at once.  When completed, it looks like something you smushed together and covered with grated cheese.  It does not look like something that required a bechamel sauce with freshly grated nutmeg.  I will never make it again. 

I don't enjoy cooking.  I just like to impress my guests.  I like to look like I spent all day making the meal and I like my food to be pretty.  And I like compliments on how complicated the meal is, how much time I must have spent, and how pretty it all looks. 

G's birthday.  Ben spent two weeks searching for the perfect vinyl record for G.  He did research.  He went to garage sales, music stores and online chat rooms.  I made the damn lasagna.  We ate together, G loved his gift, we had Abbot's Table, our group favorite wine, G & N complimented us on the pear salad that Ben threw together at the last minute, and the evening was off to a great start.

Then I went down to the basement for another bottle of wine.  (No, we do not have a wine cellar.  We just put it down there because our kitchen is so small.)  In any case, I went down for another bottle.  And that's when I saw my second centipede.  And this one... was a baby.  Which means one of three things:

1. The centipede that Ben took across the street and set free did, indeed, as I feared, come back to rejoin its mate and then to procreate.

this possibility has now moved to the top of my list of best possible scenarios.  because if it's not one lone centipede couple procreating, it's:

2. A centipede invasion.  Hordes of them.  Down in the basement eating spiders and having centipede babies and getting ready to storm the bed.

or.

3. One tiny angry centipede ready to avenge itself on the people who killed Mamma. 

In which case, I'll point to Ben.

Posted by: 120pages at 11:31 | link | comments (2) |