Three-Day Weekend
Three-day weekends are a double-edged sword. They make it that much harder to go back to work. This morning I was in a strangely brittle mood for some time and may have been a bit short with a co-worker. I hope not. She's one of my favorite co-workers. Argh.
Friday I did laundry and cleaned my bathroom and even worked out at the gym. A most excellently productive day. I also made muffins. Even I consider that easy--add milk, put in oven. Saturday I made banana bread, which mostly went well except for the horrified realization that I had forgotten the flour, and had to yank it out of the oven and stir flour into the baking pan of soupy mess (seriously, banana bread pre-baking, and especially pre-flour, looks like vomit. There's not getting around it). Saturday I also spent the night at Lanetta's. We watched the movie I gave her for her birthday (The Back-Up Plan, which was okay, but... okay) and had dinner at Ruby Tuesday.
Lanetta had just gotten home from a YSA camping trip and she was burned like a brick. A great deal of my weekend was spent applying aloe vera to her back, neck and arms while she handled her face, chest and legs. The poor thing could barely move, and she spent most of Saturday night shivering in blankets because her poor skin couldn't regulate its temperature. I tried to make her stay hydrated and eat real food. It's a bit of a battle with her. She laughs at me because I can't take care of myself, when she's the one who doesn't think to put on sunblock that she took with her and didn't eat a real meal for the 24+ hours I was there. Maybe I can't cook very well yet, but I do eat.
Sunday we went to church, napped, ate banana bread, watched Win a Date With Tad Hamilton (which was cute, but left some emotional loose ends) and then I went home. Being there overnight was seriously strange now that I don't live there. Being in my old room made me sad but finding my old bed (in the other room) made me happy. I caught myself double-guessing again whether I was right to get a place in Bluffton rather than move back in with Lanetta. Financially, the new place is sucking me dry. But you know what? I never feel guilty or awkward. Ever. These are things that I felt constantly when living with Lanetta, and even though it would probably be better now that I'm not torn between her and my parents... it wouldn't totally go away. I choose not to live like that. Lanetta and I are better friends when I'm not resenting her for making me feel that way. Moving on.
This morning I had a true culinary achievement. Baked chicken provolone! A near-disaster occurred because I was on the balcony on the phone with my mom and didn't hear the timer go off, so the chicken almost burned, but I rescued it in time. And it is very very tasty! And very filling. A++. I think I may actually get the hang of this cooking thing! I would have never, ever expected that of myself. Miracles happen.
Friday I did laundry and cleaned my bathroom and even worked out at the gym. A most excellently productive day. I also made muffins. Even I consider that easy--add milk, put in oven. Saturday I made banana bread, which mostly went well except for the horrified realization that I had forgotten the flour, and had to yank it out of the oven and stir flour into the baking pan of soupy mess (seriously, banana bread pre-baking, and especially pre-flour, looks like vomit. There's not getting around it). Saturday I also spent the night at Lanetta's. We watched the movie I gave her for her birthday (The Back-Up Plan, which was okay, but... okay) and had dinner at Ruby Tuesday.
Lanetta had just gotten home from a YSA camping trip and she was burned like a brick. A great deal of my weekend was spent applying aloe vera to her back, neck and arms while she handled her face, chest and legs. The poor thing could barely move, and she spent most of Saturday night shivering in blankets because her poor skin couldn't regulate its temperature. I tried to make her stay hydrated and eat real food. It's a bit of a battle with her. She laughs at me because I can't take care of myself, when she's the one who doesn't think to put on sunblock that she took with her and didn't eat a real meal for the 24+ hours I was there. Maybe I can't cook very well yet, but I do eat.
Sunday we went to church, napped, ate banana bread, watched Win a Date With Tad Hamilton (which was cute, but left some emotional loose ends) and then I went home. Being there overnight was seriously strange now that I don't live there. Being in my old room made me sad but finding my old bed (in the other room) made me happy. I caught myself double-guessing again whether I was right to get a place in Bluffton rather than move back in with Lanetta. Financially, the new place is sucking me dry. But you know what? I never feel guilty or awkward. Ever. These are things that I felt constantly when living with Lanetta, and even though it would probably be better now that I'm not torn between her and my parents... it wouldn't totally go away. I choose not to live like that. Lanetta and I are better friends when I'm not resenting her for making me feel that way. Moving on.
This morning I had a true culinary achievement. Baked chicken provolone! A near-disaster occurred because I was on the balcony on the phone with my mom and didn't hear the timer go off, so the chicken almost burned, but I rescued it in time. And it is very very tasty! And very filling. A++. I think I may actually get the hang of this cooking thing! I would have never, ever expected that of myself. Miracles happen.