Feeling a bit like Garfield today. (The cat, not our former president. Although I must admit, my burly pregnancy beard is coming in nicely.) Since 9 am, all I've been able to do is fantasize about that leftover pan of lasagna in the fridge. It's been calling me, and not in the "Hey girl, you wanna go get a coffee Thursday?" kind of way, but in an "OH GOD I AM HEMORRHAGING CHUNKY TOMATO SAUCE FROM EVER PORE AND NO ONE IS HERE TO HELP! I FEEL SO ALONE AND COVERED IN DELICIOUS CHEESE ... PLEASE COME RESCUE ME, MY ONLY FRIEND IN THIS COLD, GOD FORSAKEN WORLD ... THE END IS NEAR, HELP ME DIE IN DIGNITY!" 

Well, it is with a heavy heart (and stomach) that I can now report to you that it is now safely being kept in the belly of the beast. (I'm the beast. That's me.) Speaking of beasts, it's time to go shave my beard.