In my defense, I was making bread in the machine and I didn't want to leave the house until it was finished. A safety precaution, not leaving the apartment with electrical appliances running.
Now I'm waiting for the bread to cool for ten minutes, so I can slide it out of the pan. But then I'll need to wait another thirty minutes to slice it so I can taste and see if the switch to different ingredients improved it any.
After that I'll be guessing I'll need to wait until the carb coma nap has passed. But then it will be dark and I won't want to go out anyway. If you give a mouse a cookie...
I'll probably go out, really. I need to use my $5 off coupon from the Dollar Store and I definitely need some groceries. I don't have the ingredients to make pea soup, and what would the start of my winter week at work be with no soup??
One gal who was pretty expressive, said that getting a slice last thing at night after a hard day, is like putting a pillow inside of you. Right on, sister.
One guy who was stopped on the street gave his answer to the pizza question, then said like a typical New Yorker, "Um, I don't want to be offensive...but...you're doing it wrong." The cameraman laughed and said "Is that right? Would you like to try?" And the New Yorker said, "Yes!" He took the microphone and put on the headphones and walked up and down the street interviewing people for a long time, lol.
There was a very affecting and poignant interview with a homeless man. Apparently there is one spot down near the wharves where you can get a slice for a dollar. The homeless and migrants panhandle for change until they accumulate enough, then they buy a slice. And then start all over.
This man the crawl said was "Al Carpenter" spoke poignantly of life on the streets. Of trying to get people's attention who studiously look the other way, of the reduction in spirit until crime is the only way to stay alive, of all the people passing him, have a home to go to. A place where they put a key in. He spoke of loneliness. He was sad but didn't appear to be bitter, just a lost soul on the streets. It was the best part of the movie.
But then a while later he appeared again in the movie and this time his language, previously clean, was foul to the max and he was angry. Spittingly, gesticulatingly angry. Perhaps the man is schizophrenic, or perhaps simply focusing on his life to a stranger roused long suppressed emotions. I don't know.
Now here is definitely a good thing to think about. One man who was interviewed ran a pizza condiment company. You know at McDonald's you get packets of sugar or salt or pepper and they're in paper packets? This is the same, except they're strictly for pizza. The Red Pepper pack, or the Parmesan pack, or the Oregano Pack...the man said that the most unsanitary thing in a pizza parlor is the cheese shaker. People who use the bathroom and don't wash their hands use the shaker. People who cough into their hands use the cheese shaker. And then you use it and touch your pizza with those same hands. Ewwww. He has a great point.
It was a movie about pizza, why we like it, what we like on it, how to eat it, and what it represents (the more philosophical interviewees opined.)
It's warmed up here. I suppose I ought to go out and be a productive citizen and do my chores. Let me think about it for a while...while I finish my tea...