Lasagna, for me, is total soul food. And last night? Last night I made the King of all the lasagnas. It’s delicious. The cheese is crispy and sharp, the white sauce is bacony and peppery, and the lasagna itself is rich tomato-y and delicious, with spinach, carrot, beef, and just a hint of chilli. I love lasagna.
I think in a previous life I might have been Garfield.
This weekend was all about lasagna, discovering I have an admiration for someone I had never really considered in that way before (Ok. Fine. I have a crush), and fish.
So the good news is:
2. With my new crush, and having no less than three potential first dates coming up, my love life is a fun place to be.
The bad news:
One of my fish died. One of the minnows to be precise. I’m tempted to say that old age got him, but the fact that he looked a little… um… devoured? Well that points the blame squarely at Mac the Paradise Fish.
It was about midnight, and I was coughing, so I grabbed a hit drink and sat at my desk to drink it and watch the fish. I didn’t turn on any lights, I just lit a couple of candles because the fish like swimming around in romantic lighting, I guess. Then I noticed that one of my plant leaves was stuck to the filter, and looking awfully deformed. Except it wasn’t a plant leaf. It was about 3/4 of a fish.
(Shudder. It was totally a horror movie moment. I was all relaxed, and sitting in the dark, staring into space, then all of a sudden I realise it’s not space I’m staring at. It’s a decapitated fish.)
So that brings me to the question: what on earth do you do about reprimanding a fish for eating it’s tankmate? Nothing I guess. Nevertheless, I did give her a very stern talking to about “don’t look at me like that missy! It is very bad manners to eat Graham. Or Gerald. Or Grant. Or it might have been Gareth. Either way: Bad fish. Very bad fish.”
I’m not sure Mac cares very much.