What Will I Eat To Cure These Sunday Blues?

It's been a difficult week, partly because of Monday's dental fiasco and partly for reasons I don't feel like enumerating. There have been highlights, like finding out that my health insurance covers my visits to Bernie the Naturopath Sensei and watching my younger brother get spectacularly drunk and begin shedding his secrets like an itchy second skin. I also have T, who is always a comfort, and a carton of chocolate sorbet and a disc of Freaks and Geeks episodes for when I really need to mope. We also spent a couple of evenings with Tom's childhood friend Carrie, who is gorgeous, charming and so totally full of shit that every moment with her is delightful and hilarious. So when I survey the week in its totality life is not so bad.

But that's no reason not to eat like it is. To cure the aches in my heart this week I think I'm going to cook something divine and scandalous, like Nigella's grilled Skippy peanut butter and bacon sandwich on white bread. I'll walk to the local Safeway feeling deliciously guilty and excited. I've been morbidly fascinated by the Elvis-wich ever since Martha Stewart Living did a spread on alternative club sandwiches several years ago. It looks so good! Golden bread laced with butter, smothered in rich, sweet peanut butter and graced with a few strips of crisp bacon drizzled with maple syrup. Each bite must be a combination of sweet, salty, creamy and crunchy Americana that even Ruth Reichl would approve of. (Ruth Reichl is, by the way, my culinary hero. She understands the sensuality of ingredients and dining, and is never afraid of food.) I'll eat my sandwich on the couch and watch the latest episode of Survivor, just to fully savor the trashiness of my weekend coping mechanism.

But before I descend into the subversive world of emotional eating and television I have to finish grading my students' finals and call my sweet friend Glenna. T and I also have to go watch the latest show at the theatre and have dinner at his parents' house, so I will have to grade with speed and determination in order to save ample time for Glenna and my sandwich and possibly a long hot shower to wash away the yuckiness of this week and make me feel new again.

Food.
Friends.
Hot Water.

What else could a girl ask for?