I need an intervention

I am going through a serious bout of IDC and the only thing I can think of to do (besides giving in to my darker nature) is to re-read the first chapter of Skinny Bitch until I can convince myself to give up my most recent vice.  Right about now, though, you're probably scritching at your noggin wonder just what exactly IDC is.  Insatiable Desire for Chocolate.  I cannot get enough and it's awful.  Maybe it's my body's attempt to battle the blues and anxiety that come from drastic cost reduction efforts... efforts that provoked terrible and understandable gossip in my recent absence from work, since the day I left early was the day our company "right-sized" by asking about 100 staff members to leave.  "Asking," by the way, is a euphemism.

In any case, I find myself craving chocolate in a way I haven't craved chocolate in many, many years.  All weekend, I was fighting a hardcore need for chocolate cake.  I can't explain it, I just really wanted chocolate cake.  With icing.  And layers.  I'll pause my self-flagellation for a funny story about that:

I'm at my desk at work; it's around 6pm.  My boss comes over with an incredulous expression.
Boss: Do you want to see an amazing chocolate cake?
a big, bright lightbulb shines into brilliance above my cranium.
Me: No.  I would like to eat an amazing chocolate cake.
Boss: Okay.  Follow me!

One of the supervisors was throwing a little party to celebrate recent achievements of two hard-working members of her team.  One of the teammates brought in a beautiful chocolate cake, in which I indulged with my boss's encouragement and shared guilt.  Every bite was exactly what I wanted it to be.  I don't even like cake.

You would think that would be the end, right?  Wrong.  Instead of quelling my IDC, it intensified it.  This will not end well.

I would love to use anything I just shared to segue into our dinner, but there is absolutely no common thread.

The only dinner left on my menu was Savory Sausage and Peppers from Vegan on the Cheap.  I delayed making this one for two reasons:
1. as you can probably tell from the picture, there was a lot of chopping involved and I just haven't had the energy.
2. I was afraid it wouldn't be as awesome as it was the first time I made it.

I needn't have feared - it was just as delicious in my mouth as it was in my memory.  There is something so perfect about the combination of potatoes and "sausage."  The abundant flavor of the Tofurky Italian Sausages that Mister chose for this dish were calmed and complemented by the creamy blank slate of the potato slices.  The tomatoes and peppers provide little bursts of juicy sweet-tartness amidst the already magical flavor profile.

I think one of the things that really "makes" this dish is that the very first step is to brown the diced sausage in a tablespoon of olive oil, then remove it from the skillet, add another tablespoon of oil and proceed with adding the rest of the ingredients for a hearty saute.  Although there is nothing in the recipe that specifically instructs me to do so, I do my best to rescue only the sausage from the skillet, leaving behind the flavor-infused oil, rich with the essence of sun-dried tomatoes and italian herbs.

The only complaint I have about this dish is that the potato slices stick together and no matter how gently or insistently I try to coax them apart with my spoon or spatula, I cannot get the slices to spread out from one another.  They're like a really snobby food clique.  I think the dish would be even more amazing if I could get the slices to stay away from each other long enough to absorb the infused oil and play nicely with their orange, red, and green neighbors, but the potatoes are not having it.  Does anyone know any tricks for keeping them from sticking to one another?

~*~

Angst is so good at sleeping, I know I show you an inordinate number of pictures of him being adorable and sleeping somewhere ridiculous, but I'm so amused watching him adjust to his new home.  I like seeing him explore and find new places he can call his.  I'm currently in the midst of creating a little Kitty Cave for him; his very own "bedroom" for the first time in six years, dressed completely in leopard print decor 'cause that's how he rolls.

For now, though, he has found that squishing himself into the space where the seat of the couch becomes the back of the couch is a really comfy place to fall asleep:

(I can't wait to get a slipcover)