The Lasagnwitch

“Forged in darkness from wheat harvested in Hell’s Half-Acre…”

My week-old cold lasagna called to me from its resting place in the refrigerator last night.

I caved and now I’m in another dimension being chased by some dude with an ax. This sucks.

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About Restless Cube Dweller

Most of my adult life has been defined finding homes in unconventional places, and learning to interact positively with others. I've lived in the middle of nowhere, in small cities, in large cities, in the suburbs, and now in Dubuque, Iowa. This blog represents my musings about growing up, moving on, finding love, and eating well in the suburbs and beyond.
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One Response to The Lasagnwitch

  1. nobody's starling says:

    oh no!

    (don’t take the evil voice up on the free brain surgery! the last temptation of the broodwich is a trap I tell you, a trap!)

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