I wasn’t really looking forward to tonight. My gf is staying up in Hartford, so I was facing a night at home alone. I have some freelance writing that I really need to work on, but I’ve been completely unable to concentrate on it.
On my way home, I stopped to pick up some fresh spring asparagus from the local market. Even though I was hungry, I didn’t head right for the kitchen. I pulled out a bag of pretzels (the amazingly delightful honey wheat ones), poured myself a (weak) drink, and settled onto the couch with a book. The late-day sun shone shone over my shoulder from the window behind me. I’ve missed reading novels. I read stuff on the computer all day, news and blogs and email and work and other work, but I miss losing myself in a solid piece of fiction.
So I sat, and read, and sipped, and it was wonderful. After a while I chopped up some garlic, added the asparagus, and then stirred in the rice. Meanwhile I heated up a pot of broth, adding a couple of dried shiitake mushrooms and a bit of kombu. I alternately stirred ladlefuls of broth into the risotto and sat at the counter, still reading. I ate my dinner hunched over my book. When I’d finished eating, I brought the book back to the couch.
I haven’t had a more perfect solitary evening in ages.