Since R man left for the bright lights of Annapolis yesterday, I am leading La Vida Bachlorette, let me tell ya. In the 24 hours he’s been gone, I have:
Played solitaire. The only real reason for owning one of these computer machines is access to solitaire.
Took the day off from work, slept late and briefly considered shaving. Nix.
Reorganized the tupperware cabinet because last time I was looking for the good tofu holder tupperware, I couldn’t find it. Don’t you hate when that happens? Please also note this is where I started taking That Queen Michael Guy’s advice to heart.
Which also led to pulling out the refrigerator and cleaning under it. I am not making this up, sadly. A kitchen accident with a pot of navy bean soup wound up with a big glob o’ beans down between the cabinet and the refrigerator. Recently, R Man remarked they looked rather like someone had puked there and let it dry. Not anymore, motherfucker.
Which led to my finally ditching the old scrubbing sponge I’ve been using for, uhm, let’s just say too long. I have a huge pack of them thanks to Costco and yet I cling to each one as if it were a controlled substance.
And now, I’m off for muffins at Mission Beach (weekdays are the only time you can get in there anymore) and a round of thrift store hunting. It will not be nearly the thrill it would be with our dear Diane von Austinberg lending her talents, but I plan on soldiering on.
I know, it ‘s all just a mad, gay whirl, but I’ll try to squeeze in bulletins as they develop