Is this another sign that I think too much and am way too obsessed for my own good?
Readers, I bring you my most beloved companion since I became an obento addict: the notebook. Black cover with rounded corners, 240 pages of thread bound acid-free paper, with an inner pocket for knick-knacks.
Everywhere I go, I can still be daydreaming and working on my next boxed meal. Objects I see, food I taste, and notes I read are immediately catalogued and remembered for later reference. Thank you, notebook, for being there for me.