making pasta

Okay, this is easy. Penne rigate, those are little pencil-size tubes cut on a slant, not straight across, so if you tried to stand them on end they would fall over. An inch long, inch and a half, something like that. It says right on the pack cook 'em twelve minutes if you want them soft, or ten if you want 'em right, that's firm, yet limber enough to savor.

Opened the cupboard for the big pot and it was gone. Gone somewhere - can you imagine that? Why gone? Not drying on the track. I looked where the pots go, I mean, belong, then in all the cupboards, all of them. Looked all over the kitchen, under the table, in the utility closet.
Finally checked for my money and identification, in case I slept too sound and someone had crept in and...my money and id were in place, okay. When is the pot?

When all was lost I checked in the refrigerator, there it was. It held soup I made yesterday. I'd have to use a smaller pot now.

Pulled it out, added water, a handful of that big salt, large grain, like the kind you'd throw on a driveway to melt ice. The dry pasta was ready, half a bag. Set the pot on the stove, ready for the flame, all I needed was the lid. The one I tried was too small, I needed the big lid. It wasn't in the cupboard.

I checked and couldn't find it. For sure, the cover for the big pot was gone. Again, I looked around. everywhere, all the places, relentlessly. The big, flat cover was nowhere to be found. Gone. I looked everywhere, twice, even the bedroom. I was ready to give up...someone got it. Finally I thought to check the fridge again. There it was. I found the big lid on the big pot.

At last, I made the pasta, and it was good.