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It’s Fashion Week. I barely have time to brush my teeth, much less make E a sandwich. E has had to do all of the grocery shopping since Thursday because I’m running from show to show and the after parties. I don’t abandon him completely–I make sure to bring E to the parties.

While I was working at the tents, E was making love to his computer, working on god knows what app or site or ‘thing.’ I was running around Lincoln Center in my most trendy outfits, and fresh manicured nails, he spent all day in office wearing….wait for it…. that ubiquitous white robe.

On Saturday, E and I decided to skip Fashion Week festivities and stay in after a winter storm dumped about 9 inches on the city. For dinner, I made this turkey and speck sandwiches for us. Low fuss, but satisfying, plus E told me he was on a roll on whatever he was concocting in that office of his. He wolfed down enough of it to feel satiated before running back to that office. In his robe. At 7:45 PM.

(I’m counting this one as just 3/4 of a sandwich, so we can go back to having even numbered sandwich counts).

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She stole my lovely speck and put it on a sandwich. I was so looking forward to munching on it and appreciating it on it’s own, but she stole it, put it on a sandwich. Agh! Nevermind this sandwich was indeed good.

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