Today is Saint Patrick’s Day. You probably know this. I’m celebrating today by knitting a ton on my SALS, which is the best, and by wearing a green shirt, not day-glow green, but sort of a dusty green. I went out last night to celebrate at the Coffee house, which I would have done anyway, no matter what holiday weekend it is. I was actually stopped by the police on the way home. Silly me, I always thought that sobriety check points were for people driving, not for people walking past them. Who knew?
Officer: Do you have a minute?
Officer: So, where are you coming from?
Me: Sonnets Coffeehouse, over there.
Officer: Have you been drinking tonight?
Me: I wish.
Officer: So that’s a no?
Me: No, I haven’t been drinking. I’m just like this.
Officer: Okay, thank you, have a good night.
Me: I won’t but thanks anyway. You too.
I actually didn’t have that bad of a night. I was home by ten.
Today was a quite day, spent puttering around the house. I fixed a crockpot dinner, listened to Wait Wait don’t tell me again. (Have I subjected you all to my rant on crock pot food. You cook it all day, in the same pot, in the same juices, and thus, it all tastes exactly the same, which is usually a food I’m not crazy about even if it doesn’t taste like salty mush. I get it that those who work outside the home love it, because having food ready when you get home from work is like a gift from Santa Claus. Me, I sit at my desk writing a lot, so that smell rises to my nostrils all day, and by the time that I get ready to eat I want to run fleeing from the house because of the smell. I feel like I’ve eaten so much of it without having taken a bite.) (Also, I’m doing Swiss Steak and I started with four of them five hours ago. I just went and stirred it, and I now have three. Where the hell did the other one go. Did it walk out. Did the cat figure out how to open the lid and at the other one. Where the hell is it? The gravy doesn’t look that meaty. I can’t explain this. Aliens? Ghosts? Was Tom over?)
Still putting along on the TSLS. I don’t think that I’ll ever be done. I’m not sure that I want to be. That was a lie, for interests sake. I am really ready for this thing to be over.)