Disenchantment is setting in. I don’t like it.
Obviously I am not old as in OLD. Though the distance between my parents and me is narrowing.
Warning sign: You decide a book is not worth reading again. Don’t cry. Your brain will go with you when you are six foot under. No loss. Worse: I love cooking. I have shelves you’d salviate just looking at them. Yet. In truth? And it is one hell of a shame how much time I wasted on those who stir: There are principles. If you master those you don’t need a million recipes.
Yes, the future leaves. All I need to do is condense the little I know. Package, freeze.