Last night I finished work and looked at the piles of paper I need to go through, the laundry that needs to be washed and all of things that need to happen before we move (again) in two weeks and, dear readers, I almost fell for it.  I almost succumbed to the evil to dos mocking me from the corners of our apartment (you’d be surprised how many corners this little apartment has) and I almost chucked the whole project. But then I remembered all of you – anxiously reloading your RSS readers, desperately waiting to hear how Day 1 went (did I mention I was a Drama major?) and I knew I had to get out there.

So, I went out and did something that I’ve wanted to do for the last month and haven’t made the time for – I went out for pizza. Okay, so it’s not the skydiving or learning to pole dance you had perhaps anticipated (I have a whole year here, folks) but it was fantastic.  Now, pizza probably doesn’t seem like such a big deal but, around here, it is. In February, I had to go gluten-free so cakes, cookies, cereal and pizza are off-limits, which you’d think would be a big deal but, since I feel so much better, is not.

But there are two things I miss. Desperately. The first one: Count Chocula cereal. I actually teared up (teared up!) in Target the other day when I realized this Halloween I can’t eat it. And, unfortunately for me and the Target clerk who shared my very uncomfortable moment, I’m not exaggerating. The other one: pizza. Mainly, because most gluten-free pizza is made from cardboard.

You can imagine our excitement then when we found this awesome place here in San Fran, Amici’s that has gluten-free pizza that actually tastes like real pizza. Well, I think it does. LB nodded and called it “very real-ish” with that look he gives me when he’s “humoring” me and then didn’t take me up on my very generous offer to share my pizza, an act which you have to admit pretty much makes me a shoo-in for The Best Wife Ever Award since we only go for pizza once every two months, at the most, and I think about that pizza all of the time, yet I was still willing to offer my husband some. Off of my plate. God, I’m going to be such a fantastic mother.

So, I went out on the town and treated myself to pizza. And guess what? When I got home, all of those to dos were still waiting for me. Imagine that.