I can’t take the time to bike, to walk. Up early. Hearings, meetings, classes. Good, yes, it’s all good, but hey, did anyone notice how cold it is outside?
Ed says: let’s eat pasta. (Actually he first says: let’s eat Mexican, but I haven’t the time to drive to Madison’s newest attempt at south of the border fare.)
Comfort food. I rarely eat it anymore. And it isn’t because I haven’t the need for comfort. Especially when winter is hovering.
At the restaurant, Ed does what he is so good at doing when he is comfortable. He dozes off.
Food, soft light, cold air outside. Who can blame him.
