After reading my one e-mail and the daily comics, I was possessed of a spirit of cooking.
While I ate my breakfast of black bean chili with rice, I had a vision of using up the leftovers in the fridge -- a half a small cabbage, some hamburger, and some basmati rice to make golumpki meatballs while an enormous slab of ribs baked for lunch. Oh, and macaroni salad.
The ribs were thawed in the microwave before I was done with my pint of tea; I cut them into individual portions and seasoned and browned them while the oven was heating and while I mixed the leftover rice, the small pack of ground beef, and cabbage into meatballs only slightly smaller than tennis balls.
Bernie woke and came out to the kitchen to observe the pressure cooker with the golumpki-meatballs chattering in the pressure cooker, and the vat of boiling water for the macaroni, the Cuisinart full of chopped onion, celery, and pickle, and the pot of cooling boiled eggs and its compadre, the container of freshly-made barbecue sauce. "Looks like the Mad Scientist's lab to me," he said, blearily pouring his own coffee.
Yes. I was COOKING, baby, and I have to say that it felt GOOD to be using the leftovers efficiently and making good stuff happen. The food was scrumptious, all of it.
It's not really the point of this post that the food was good. The amazing event is that I wanted to cook. I wanted to tear myself away from the computer and do something with my hands other than format on a keyboard. There was a JOY in cooking stuff, a SATISFACTION in creating delicious dishes, an INTEREST in the world that has been hard to find in the past three years.
Yes. I like this feeling.