Fo' drizzle.

It's raining Victoria style. This means a day in bed with Margaret Atwood, The Virgin Suicides, and Love Actually. If we had real bread (read: not icky flax bread that tastes like ground styrofoam) and real fake cheese (read: not soy cheese slices that have been sitting in the fridge since winter break), I'd make myself a grilled cheese sandwich. We don't even have soup. I'm never prepared grocery-wise for comfort food days. However, I do happen to have seventy five packets of Japanese udon noodles.(!?) Those, I suppose, will have to do.