Seven o'clock, the pan

It's ten to seven. You've been in for twenty minutes. The question comes, and the answer was given at eight this morning, so it isn't a question. It's pasta with the tin of tomatoes, because it's Tuesday and that's what Tuesday is.

The pan of water goes on. While it heats, an onion gets chopped, badly, and goes in the other pan with some oil. The tin gets opened. Salt. The pasta goes in the water. Ten minutes of standing there with the radio on, stirring occasionally, tasting once. The pasta gets drained, the sauce goes on it, some cheese gets grated over, and it's on a plate at twelve minutes past seven. The pan gets a rinse while you find a fork.

It wasn't an event. It wasn't anything. It was dinner, and it was nice, and the evening's yours from twenty past. On Friday you'll order a curry, on purpose, and it'll be the best curry you've had in a year.

One action. Write down six plain plates, now, before you close this. Put the list on the fridge. Tomorrow morning, before you leave, pick one. That's all the method is. The rest is a pan.