These days, I rarely eat at my desk while I’m working because it’s often an impenetrable mess, covered with magazines and half-finished poster designs and four-day old coffee cups and little scraps of paper and crumb traces of ancient snacks past. Even though I secretly love clutter, I know it really grosses my partner out, so occasionally I force myself to clear away a space long enough to eat a plate of food and move on with my day.
[A note on the couscous: I am ashamed of this couscous, so much so that I was a little afraid to post these photos. Have you ever had a dish that you were so good at making that you bragged about it to everyone you knew, only to one day inexplicably lose your mojo and discover you can no longer make it, not even a little bit? Before I moved in with my partner, I boasted endlessly about how I made the perfect, fluffiest couscous you could imagine. Then one day, I couldn’t make it anymore. Even in my strongest attempts to get my groove back, my couscous rebels against me and ends up dry, pebbly, and deeply embarrassing. The perfectionist in me is deeply mortified by stuff like this. Has this happened to anyone else?!]