While cleaning up, I realized something:
I always have exactly enough for one more place setting when I cook for myself and Max.
As I wrapped tonight's leftovers, it just made me think: I'm not sad, but it does heighten the loneliness factor a little. (This is heightened even more when Max isn't home, and I cook for just myself...so typically on those nights I just warm up a Lean Cuisine. Dinner for precisely one.)
I don't know. It's been nearly a full year of being a singleton. And don't get me wrong, I actually enjoy it. But there's still that tiny part of me that thinks about that extra plate full of food and wonders if and when I'll be ready to let someone in to eat it. (That sounded really strange. I don't really care who eats my leftovers. I was trying to go deep and failed miserably. Yeep.)
I guess what I'm saying is that there's a tiny part of me that sometimes wonders if and when I'll date again...but there's a much bigger part at the moment that's quite happy to invest in copious amounts of Saran Wrap, Tupperware, and aluminum foil.
It's kind of a tumultuous internal tug-of-war.
Anyways, the chicken? It was phenomenal.
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