I didn’t walk two miles in the arboretum, visit the gym,
vacuum the rugs, wash windows or straighten the cupboard,

nor did I volunteer at the food bank, make calls for a political
candidate or compose a letter to the editor. However, I did

work the NYT crossword, start “Wordling” again (after a streak
of 128 hits that was interrupted by vacation), and I halved

a spaghetti squash, impaled on my sharpest, fiercest knife, by raising
it high and thump, thump, thumping it against the cutting board.

The squash, baked with Michael’s of Brooklyn puttanesca sauce
and topped with freshly grated parmesan, was quite tasty.