A friend called me this weekend with a mighty plea:
After many months of looking, much saving, and even a little groveling, Trent and I have finally purchased a house. It’s a beaut. Well, not yet, but it has serious potential. All it needs is a lot of elbow grease and a lot of vision. In week-one, I scraped four layers of wallpaper off the kitchen walls. In week two, I scraped four layers of wallpaper off the hallway and bedroom. In week three…well, you get the picture. The bottom line is that, by then end of every 12-hour shift, I am both extremely happy—and extremely hungry.
The problem is twofold: I’ve DIY’d myself into both exhaustion and some pretty significant tendonitis, otherwise I’d whip up a batch of my go-to rigatoni. But both my and Trent’s whip-up hands are smollen and on the fritz. But they are still capable of dialing the phone. Unfortunately, I don’t know my new neighborhood at all.
Please ask your readers to help me find the best takeout for these evenings when I am so exhausted I can barely see straight. Just tell me who to call and what to order.
So, SideDishers, it’s our duty to help this poor girl out. The neighborhood is Spring Valley and Hillcrest. Ready, set, suggest!
