I followed My Darling B’s advice and planned ahead this time: I found one of those giant-sized tea cups, the ones that are big enough to bathe a cat in, at St. Vinnie’s yesterday and brought it home to run it through the dish washer because, y’know, yuck. It’s probably been handled by everybody and his mother, and mom was probably picking her nose. But after putting it through the “disgustingly dirty” cleaning cycle it was sparkling clean this morning, and on our way home yesterday we stopped at the co-op for groceries, which gave me the perfect opportunity to get a proper brick o’ ramen. That’s right, I had ramen again for lunch today. And it was really way too yummy to be good for me in any way. The label said it had something like 20,000 kilograms of salt, and I could see little globules of fat glumping together on the surface every time I leaned close enough. They probably couldn’t wait to go straight to my coronary artery and strangle it. But wow, it was good. I can’t believe how good that was. Aren’t I supposed to have outgrown stuff like that by now?