After going down in my greatcoat, beer in hand, starting Brigitte's car and listening to the Phantom Blues Band for fifteen minutes, then cleaning all the snow off her car from top to bottom, I'm beat. I'm throwing in the towel.
With no one to ooh and ahh at my cooking prowess and only me to soak in my sorry misery as I eat green beans that will easily wait till tomorrow, I officially give up. It's yesterday's pasta and my almost week-old pomodoro sauce to get me through the day. So after all, I will still weigh only 164 and not the 264 I was counting on.
Besides, I needed the cast iron pan for the duck anyway.
Brigitte, wontcha please come home?
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