(no subject)
I'm getting so sick of cooking. Two failed attempts, and meat that I really don't like, have left me with a faltering ambition and an unsatisfied appetite. There's nothing left but chicken thighs and whiting (or, as I like to call them, sharp pointy fish spears that have been prodding rotting untastey stuff!). I want to make spagetti, but that would be a waste, since we really ought to try and eat as much of our perishables as possible before the move. This is the part about moving that I hate. Perhaps spagetti topped with chopped chicken thighs with a peppercorn sauce, aka salad dressing?
In more positive news, I've nearly emptied my desk drawers; packed all of my clothing (minus laundry and outfits for the rest of the week); and a few books. Emmer has found a way to jump off of the couch (and bed) and has been running amock on the floor and under the furniture, supervised of course, all day long -- which cut into my productivity quite a bit, but compensated by increasing my enjoyment. He misses Hammy a lot. I'm going to get him a stuffed toy to sleep with soon, and see if that makes him feel any better.
Tomorrow it's a trip to the bank and more reading Mark's books (instead of those I need to return to the library in mere days). Fun times!
In more positive news, I've nearly emptied my desk drawers; packed all of my clothing (minus laundry and outfits for the rest of the week); and a few books. Emmer has found a way to jump off of the couch (and bed) and has been running amock on the floor and under the furniture, supervised of course, all day long -- which cut into my productivity quite a bit, but compensated by increasing my enjoyment. He misses Hammy a lot. I'm going to get him a stuffed toy to sleep with soon, and see if that makes him feel any better.
Tomorrow it's a trip to the bank and more reading Mark's books (instead of those I need to return to the library in mere days). Fun times!