Last night, for her big blowout as the last meal I need for two jobs (even though my night test scoring one ended Thursday), Mother went all out: Chicken she bought from, I guess, Cub Foods, and pasta -- rigatoni, it looks like.  But as is her wont, she packed so much rigatoni into the glass container that, when I tried nuking it for two minutes, it wasn't hot all around.  So I dumped it all out onto several paper plates, put another plate on top of it (to keep some of the moisture on the pasta), then heated it up for another minute, thinking that was enough.

And it was ... until I dug into more of the pasta.  There were still cold spots, as evidence by my eating, well, cold rigatoni.  But I was too dug into my food to care, plus I already dumped the chicken (thoroughly cooked) onto it, so I kept eating.

Maybe I shouldn't have, since my stomach was kind of rumbly this morning.  Felt alright through work and eating hot dinner just now, farting aside.  But I have to make sure I err on the side of overcooking instead of undercooking from now on, lest I poison myself or something.