Day 4: Al Spaghetti

Late last night, I got very hungry and had some cereal out of schedule, which throws my breakfasting off a little. It brought to light the fact that when my belly gets all rumbley I have no patience for chopping and potting and tending and serving, I just want food now.
To protect myself from further cereal killing sprees, I put the rest of my spaghetti into the biggest pot I could find and followed the instructions. My stovetop was having none of it. It boiled over three times as I delicately adjusted the dial and indelicately told it to go to hell you bastard piece of monkey nugget. (For some reason when I swear I forget that some words aren't very insulting.)
I did recall that someone told me once, about spaghetti, that it was ready when it was al fresco or al dente or al quaeda or something. They didn't tell me what that actually was, however, so I used the other test, which is throwing it against a wall and seeing if it sticks. Yes, this is a REAL THING.
My first strand fell down behind the spice rack, and the second ended up on the sink tap. The third fell off the kitchen wall, but perhaps, the scientist in me pondered, it was the wrong kind of wall. I flung pasta against various walls around the house and accidentally down the hallway.
Success! There are vanishingly few occasions when I am pleased to see food stuck to parts of my living room, but today I have enough spaghetti to drown myself in so Good Housekeeping be damned.