I’m a busy person. 

But for anyone who knows me personally (I feel like if you’re reading this, you probably do), they’d now that I don’t reeeeeeally have a lot going on.

I have a job with flexible hours that means a quicker, less crammed commute and a allows me to go to the gym when every man and his dog isn’t using the damn treadmills. I’ve literally ever had to wait for a treadmill. It’s so liberating. Honestly, I just walk right in there and get jogging on my spot to nowhere. I love my life.

But yeah, not a lot going on. I don’t have any dependants. I don’t have a dog to walk. I don’t have a a multinational side business to manage. In short, I have a fair bit of spare time and very few responsibilities beyond keeping myself showered, fed and out of trouble with the law.

What I do have are friends to tag in memes so they know I still care about them, a growing nursery of plants to water and a blog full of personal anecdotes no one asked for to maintain (that could be the most millennial sentence I’ve written so far).

And sometimes I get tired. I get stressy. I get depressy. I and you better believe I get anxious-essy. I know, anxious and depressed? Me? The deeply cynical overthinker? That’s un-possible! 

Anyway, I have times when pulling something funny out of my arse (figuratively speaking, of course) is that little bit harder than other times. And I had a bit of a time last week, when I just really couldn’t think of anything funny or clever or even coherent to write about for my column of the paper. 

So I rehashed an old recipe I posted on my blog at the beginning of the year. It’s generally pretty safe to assume that most of the people who read the paper don’t read my blog, because they get a regular dose of my dribble each week and could probably live without the booster shot that comes of a Sunday. 

I had originally planned to write something fresh for you today, rather than reposting a repost, but I’ve got to run off to the gym before work and there’s a load of washing I need to whack on the line and I really wouldn’t mind listening to a podcast while I have a leisurely breakfast this morning sooo… you understand. I’ve got a bit on. 

Plus, I feel like I jazzed it up sufficiently with the riblet and potato scollop sandwich bit (inspired by a genius bloke my mate works with) and the addition of a handful of roasted chook to make this a whole new recipe. Even though, I must admit, I’ve not yet eaten it myself. But I may just splurge on a roasted chook for dinner tonight, because you gotta love yourself, right? 

Lunch is not something to be neglected.

It’s more than just a midday meal, it’s a carrot, dangling in front you to get you through the workday when you could easily be sitting on the couch in your pyjamas, flipping aimlessly through the channels and wondering just what the heck Huey from Huey’s Cooking Adventures is up to these days.

No, lunch is something to be cherished.

The other day I disrespected lunch. My “meal” consisted of the leftovers stashed in my handbag from when I went to the movies over the weekend. I had about five clear gummy bears, two lollies shaped to look like the feet of chicken who had wondered around in nuclear waste, a half-eaten orange snake and about seven slightly withered green beans.

I didn’t prepare anything ahead of time. And I suffered the consequences. I’m ashamed of myself and I am still hungry.

The annoying thing is that I already had an easy, apathy-proof and somewhat healthish recipe I could have used to prevent this disaster. I’ve written about it on my blog – religiously read by an average audience of 2.3 people – but thought I’d share it here because I’ve made a new inspired addition to it recently: store-bought chicken.

It’s not the most satisfying lunch you’ll ever have but it’s nowhere near as depressing as handbag crud, it tastes pretty good if you find the right pesto and it makes you feel like you’re at least trying to take care of yourself.

And it doesn’t take much. You’ll need two decent-sized zucchini. But you could use three less-than-decent-sized zucchini. You could also use 12 tiny zucchinis. In fact, you could probably use one eighth of a comically oversized zucchini. Whatever.

You’ll also need pesto, a vegetable peeler, a microwave, a fistful of leftover barbecue chicken you salvaged before someone else got to it and a microwaveable container full of good intentions.

Step 1: Whittle your zucchini down into thin, nourishing ribbons of health using a veggie peeler. I would recommend a veggie peeler instead of a zucchini spiralizer because A) I don’t have one and B) then the dish won’t technically be called “zoodles”, thus freeing you from using the term and deluding yourself into thinking these strips are going to taste anything like something made of wheat. In fact, the first step for this recipe should be “lower your expectations” because this will not trick your mind into thinking you’re eating pasta.

Step 2: Dump your shaved zucchini into a microwavable container, making sure you can find the lid that goes with it before dirtying a lidless container you’ll then have to rinse.

Step 3: Dollop two heaped teaspoons of pesto in. I have no idea how high the salt content or the fat content or the general sin content is, but considering you’re going to be eating mostly zucchini for lunch instead of making a pork riblet sandwich using two potato scallops in place of the bread (it sounds like I’m judging, but I’m not – I’m totally behind the odd hot box sandwich between cholesterol tests), you’re probably allowed to feel good about this choice.

Step 4: You may not think you’ll need a handful of shaved chicken/fistful of turkey/hand-sized portion of mystery meat, but you’ll be glad it’s there come lunchtime. I have eaten and enjoyed this pesto pasta imposter meatless many a time, but I do find myself needing an extra cup of tea with aggressive urgency of an afternoon.

Chuck a handful of meaty something into the container to stop yourself from bingeing on stale fruitcake when you get home.

Step 5: Put on the lid, carefully place this container in your bag/satchel/human pouch and skip on off to start your day, knowing you have a vaguely nutritious lunch waiting for you.

Step 6: As soon as lunchtime hits, microwave the container with the lid on for about two minutes. Because you’ve peeled that zucc so thin, it doesn’t take much to cook. The high water content of zucchini (I say this with absolutely no knowledge about the actual water content of zucchini) means you don’t need to add any water to the container to get the steam treatment happening.

Step 7: Try to find a fork in the staff kitchenette.

Step 8: Wash the gunk off the only fork you could find in the staff kitchenette. Try not to think who last used it.

Step 9: Enjoy your dish while sitting in a bubble of your own smugness, doing you best to conceal your overwhelming desire to eat a sandwich using potato scallops as bread, forcing a smile if you have to.