I love to make fresh pasta. I find it therapeutic in some sense. So I thought making my own ravioli would bring me the same zen. It did not. It brought on a need for a glass of wine. I made about half the amount I had anticipated because, well, I guess I'm a quitter. I made the rest of the pasta dough into linguini and called it a night.
If you have the patience that I apparently lack, I encourage you to give these a go. Why not, you can always quit, right? I won't judge.