Tired because of this true story, food

Yesterday was a bit rough, culminating with me crying into a pot of beets like an extremely sad young Russian mother. More about that later. Anyway, I had two large'ish glasses of red wine, dished all over Benedict (as you know) and called it a day. At 2:30am, Oliver toddled into our room and affixed himself to my side in my bed. At 3:00am, Percy raced up the stairs like he'd neglected to pee for eight days and had just realized that the time is NOW. I got up to let him out, waited while he took his sweet time in 18° weather, let him back in and ambled back to bed. Once there, it became abundantly clear that only a person already asleep could ignore the sonorous rumble roaring from Tom. As such, I relocated to Oliver's bed. No sooner had my eyes shut than Nutmeg jumped on my stomach followed by Percy ON MY HEAD.

"What the F*(&?" I cried out, scaring the balls off both animals who fled with unusual speed.

This kind of nonsense, including a nightmare, went on and on, and I have felt like twice-flattened roadkill since 6:35am. I can't make coherent sentences for pete's sakes.

Long way of telling you that while I have much more to say, I simply cannot go on. Instead, to bed!

But I'll leave you with two pics:

• what the teary beets turned into (a lovely soup with roasted garlic, crème fraîche and chives;

• and, tonight's meal for myself: pumpkin ravioli with salted browned butter and Parmesan.

Browned butter makes everything better.

Tomorrow we get to dine alongside Gabrielle Hamilton (Prune) and hear about her new cookbook!!!!