the art of: dinner in bed

few things bring me more joy or make me feel more comforted than a proper dinner in bed. i say “proper” because this isn’t the kind of dinner ordered as takeout, eaten out of boxes. rather, the dinner to which i am referring is a home-cooked one, served on our ceramic dishes, eaten in our laps with cloth napkins and glasses of wine atop bedside tables. basically, all of the components destined for a dinner table, enjoyed in the comfort of bed.

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now don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a daily occurrence. and for that, i am grateful. these meals are typically reserved as a reward for enduring an exhausting day at work, when all you want to do is jump into sweats/pajamas, turn on Netflix, and – for lack of a better term – stuff your face with something homemade (preferably pasta).

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it’s all things comforting, wrapped into a single moment and made all the more special by the mere fact that it deviates from our norm.

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it’s the light at the end of the tunnel in an otherwise defeating day, a little treat to remind you that finding joy can be as simple as that. a dinner in bed.

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