Clearly, Attention Deficit Disorder

Two occurrences that almost made me cry:

1. At lunch time today I lovingly and reverently cooked some Trofie (for the gastronomically challenged, that’s a traditional pasta from Liguria). Posh pasta usually takes 300 times as long to cook as normal pasta, so I stood over the pan stirring, took the pan off the hobb as soon as the trofie was perfectly al dente, and added carefully chosen ingredients.
It’s only after I had sprinkled the exact amount of parmesan out of the little plastic shaker thing that I noticed the little green dots. Mould. Mouldy parmesan.
So after throwing my fork across the room in a fit of despair and rage, I did what any self respecting cook would never do, I washed my pasta under a stream of lukewarm water.
It really wasn’t so good after that.
But I didn’t cry.

2. Yesterday in between work and a work function I had exactly half an hour to squeeze in some Christmas shopping. The product of my (frantic) Christmas shopping was in turn stuffed into a plastic bag. A plastic bag which I have left. Somewhere. Bus. Street. Bus stop. I have no idea. I think I am going to cry after all.

At this point I would like to blame mulled wine for this sudden drop in attention. I would also like to blame the box office that still haven’t sent me my pair of tickets for tonight’s show, as well as Christmas shoppers all over London, parmesan makers that don’t print sell by date on plastic shakers, and exes you can’t get over and spend time crying about on the bus. It’s all their fault.

I have no idea what to wear for tonight’s show. Cos, tickets or no tickets, I will get us in, I swear. Oh, it’s Margaret Cho. Yay!