35 Pieces of Pasta

It was one of those mornings today. 

My maid (cook) called in sick at 6:20am.

Good news - I was awake and reading an unputdownable book.

Bad news - it was "Bad Mothers United" by Kate Long.

I didn't even work out 'cause I was lazy. 

And she had early school today. 

I ploughed on, I am 43, I can deal with one measly lunch box.

'How many farfalle does she need?' I mused aloud.

'35' he answered promptly. God bless him.

Sometimes your questions need precise mathematical answers.

'How do you know how much sauce to add?'

'Well, I just do' 

Sometimes I surprise myself with how good I am at food.

I blundered on after, all a-tizzy, 'cause today was going to be a good day.

I was going to make up for last week's unproductivity at work. 

The sambar thingie splattered down as I picked it from the fridge.

There was sambar (small onion) pretty much everywhere.

Including the ceiling, oh heaven help me. 

I calmed down as I cleaned. 

I think I deserved it 'cause I was whining. 

About the fridge which is over-flowing with stuff. 

Shouting in my head at the maid (cook).

Anyhow the kitchen got a good wipe.

The cloths are all done for & I found sambar in the MnMs.

But order prevails, generally! 

As for the lunch box? 

It went with a long note from her father.

It was all ignored. 

She shared the sandwich with a small boy. 

She rolled the used fork in the cloth napkin.

She brought back 10 farfalle, if you must know.