And the winner is...

Yesterday was just one of those days. When nothing seems to go right and you're overwhelmed but you have to pretend for the rest of the world that you're just whelmed (10 points if you can name that movie reference) and really all you want to do is just sweatpants-it on the couch.

Quick tangent. A friend mentioned to me that I should get a flu shot. You know, so I don't get the flu. And also so she'll let me hang out with her baby. He's got a really sweet face and sometimes wears business suits. Should be motivation enough for me to get one, right? INCORRECT. She made a valid argument about acheiving small victories, but I wasn't buying it. No needles in the arm for me, thankyouverymuchbutidrathereatworms.

So there I am, the 3 o'clock napmonsters encroaching all up in my space, when all of a sudden a tiny snippet of conversation from the night before comes slamming into my brain like a ton of Werther's Originals.

THE LOOCH IS MAKING STEAK PIZZIOLE!!! (ed: There's no need for proper spelling when it comes to Looch-language, but here's how you say it: pitz-ee-ole.)

That dish is what comfort food means to me. It is unfailingly delicious, best eaten with good crusty bread, and leaves you with slight dizziness remedied only by unbuttoning your pants and lying down for a quick disco nap. And that is exactly what happened after dinner. For everyone in the fam, except me.

The day got away from me. I started a project that was more complicated than it should be. I had to stop by an event after work and stayed longer than originally anticipated. Then I had to run over to Kinko's to pick up a print order. And then and then and then...

And by the time I got to the Looch's house? No red sauce in sight. Only the lingering smell of garlic and my growling stomach there to keep me company. Que the violins.

But then I spotted everyone around the kitchen table, smiling over magazine cutouts and laughing over devious schemes to choose the perfect honeymoon spot. I was greeted with warm hugs and compliments on my dress (thanks guys, I picked it out myself!) And as sisty rubbed my arm and told me it would be better tomorrow, I focused on the smells of home still coming from the kitchen and reminded myself that the arms of the women around that table were exactly what would comfort me in any state of "whelmed".

And that is what I consider a small victory.