On the way back from the Whirlaway last night, I complained I had no food in my house.

This, apparently, is what no food looks like. I also didn’t pay for anything. Farmers market-er friend’s excess peppers and potatoes. Tomatoes from a coworker. Basil from my garden. Cracked two eggs on it, crumbled some goat cheese, salted and peppered, called it breakfast.