Tonight, I enjoyed a delicious Italian meal by myself on an outdoor patio at a restaurant resembling a little cottage in the middle of Midtown Atlanta. I had a beautiful yet simple arugula salad, wild mushroom ravioli, and one of my all-time favorite glasses of Sangiovese. The temperatures were still in the mid-70s in the early evening, so it felt like a warm summer evening as opposed to an autumn evening. There would be zero chances I’d agree to dine outside, day or night, in New York at this time of year.

As I sat and ate my ravioli, I wondered about all the people in the world who are shunning pasta and bread and thought.. what a miserable life. If you cannot appreciate how good something like these morsels are, you must be a very unhappy person. During the food tour I went on over a week ago, one of the women on the tour said that she thought some people waste so much time obsessing over food that it probably makes them miserable people, and that if they just stopped obsessing and just allowed themselves to eat the things they obsessed over not eating, they’d be happier and healthier people. So true. And what a first-world obsession.