This post won’t so much be about dinner as it will be about the anticipation of dinner. You see, I just ordered a pizza online. A Pizza Mia, to be precise, with ham, mushrooms, and black olives on half. Tonight Shane is off to homebrew club, and I am home alone, a little bit buzzed from the ONE beer I had at Blue Tractor at happy hour.  One beer!  I am entering my 30s in worse drinking shape than when I entered my mid 20s and resolved to drink more.

When we lived in a terrible high-rise in Arlington, one of the only things within walking distance of our place was Pizza Hut.  It was our go-to place when we were too tired or stressed or hungry or the commute was too awful to think about making dinner.  It doesn’t feel right to be ordering a pizza and waiting for it to arrive – I should have to put on my shoes, walk down 6 flights of stairs, out the door, and across a creepy parking lot in order to get my pizza.  I should be able to duck into the bodega to buy some bananas or Mexican sugar soda or strange pastries on my way home.  These are the things I associate with Pizza Hut – not waiting for the delivery man to arrive.  I hope that the pizza, the first I’ve ordered from a chain in at least a year, lives up to my expectations.