I work a lot, and when I'm in work mode, the first thing that falls off the executive functions train is being able to cook (or to clean the kitchen, or to buy groceries). And since I love cooking and have some (years into the process of being curbed) perfectionist tendencies, often the fallback option is just not eating and then wondering why I feel like shit. (It's because of not eating.)
The humour of this book is incredible, the writing is excellent, and somehow it feels like home. I might use it for cooking but for now, it feels like companionship and being seen. It feels like it's legitimate to eat a slice of bread with some tabasco on it as my diner. Or sugar spread on a toast. Or Hummus on a Spoon. Thank you.
I'll gladly wear the Sad Bastard coat on these exhausted evenings, because pay no mind to the name - it'll keep you warm when you feel cold.