It's that week. The one where I have no - and I do mean no - money, but there's two cans of sardines, a can of tomatoes, and some finely-ground cornmeal for polenta in the pantry, some dying basil near the window, a half dried-up nub of garlic on top of the microwave, and the remnants of some parm-reg in the fridge.
A proper Italian will rage that I topped it with cheese, but the fish came out of a can, and they can get over it. I'm Sicilian (among other things), and I do what I want. But mostly I give thanks every damned day that I was raised on the kitchen counter by good cooks, and that I know how to feed myself.
Tonight, we dine in Venice.

