I cooked dinner tonight. (That's two nights in a row, if you're counting. Obviously, I'm counting.) It was good, but I'm mostly proud of the fact that I cooked a meal wherein I planned the portions accurately - we each got a good-for-us, filling, yummy dinner, and we didn't have the option of eating too much, nor were there leftovers to throw away (or store in the fridge for a few weeks so they can be thrown away later, after they've started growing things).
That's the extent of my excitement about cooking lately. I remember that I like cooking; it's the actual execution and clean-up that seems like too much to mess with.