Eating in Bed, Quadrophenia

My mom called me the other day to make sure everything was OK.  She'd noticed that Oilchanges had been somewhat quiet and, like many a mother would do, she called to make sure that the quietness of my public persona didn't point at some other, more disturbing quiet within me.  I assured her that I was quite happy; I simply hadn't made any noteworthy dinners lately.  Contented that her boy was ok, she proceeded to caution me against getting too "preachy."  "Preachy?" I said.  "Too political," she said.  Perhaps I have been on some political high horse lately, bad-mouthing the Food Network and bashing the Barefoot Contessa with just a little too much glee.  Anyhow, that was last week, and I have since come down with the common cold.  I wonder what Rachael Ray would prescribe?  What 30 Minute Meal would she have up her sleeve for me?  Chicken soup?  I heard she doesn't drive, so even if she did whip me up some chicken soup, one of her minions would have to deliver it.  I can hear her barking at her errand boy, Hey Bruce! Deliver Oilchanges some soup!  Anyway, here is my computer, all comfy in bed.  I doubt I shall watch Quadrophenia after all.  I'm not particularly interested in The Who, and I need to do some grocery shopping anyhow.  It's another, Friday night spaghetti night on old Orchard street.  Buena fortuna! means good fish.  Treat yourself before you eat yourself alive!