And now, the rest of the story. So last night, after I had let out all my frustrations with my incapacity for culinary prowess, I decided to just make some ramen. It was my roommate's ramen, but I figured I could just float him a dime, and I wouldn't have to hear any complaints. The time was about 4:30 a.m. I was sitting there, proudly boiling that biscuit of noodles, gladly straining the water from them with an old plate (since the strainer was filled with cinnamon and sugar dust), and blithely mixing in the seasoning packet. I took the first happy bite, but to my dismay, something was wrong. The flavor was terrible. It was very strong, and there were hard, crunchy spices in it. When I walked over to the counter, I discovered my mistake: I had put the seasoning packet for the entire box of Rice-a-Roni into my little pathetic bowl of ramen. I forced myself to eat it anyway out of sheer starvation. I later calculated that I had eaten 2,220 mg of sodium. It was awful. I barfed in my mouth a bit as I was climbing into bed during the early minutes of dawn. I ran to throw up outside, and I slipped in the slime from the buttery mess on the floor. After I finished that, I meekly climbed the stairs to my room. Even over the sound of my roommate singing showtunes in the shower, I finally fell asleep, with an empty feeling in my stomach, and one in my gut. I had ruined even ramen. I had failed.