After 10 good hours of sleep and a Skype call with T., whose boys were running around playing with some toy named Peso (don't ask me; I am out of the loop on the pop culture of small children), and some errands, I came home to do something I haven't done in three years:
I made sweet potato enchiladas.
That doesn't sound like a big deal, I know, but it actually is. It's a big deal because it means that I have the mental space for something other than survival, and apparently it's been three years since I had that mental space.
Of course, I have forgotten most of how I made them, and I think I probably should have gotten Cuban style black beans and medium enchilada sauce and caramelized onions if I wanted them to be just like I used to make them, but there are eight cups of cheese and a metric ton of freshly ground black pepper in those two pans, so I'm sure they will be delicious. (They are made of CHEESE and corn and sweet potato and enchilada sauce. They can't help but be delicious.)