Jacob's in San Diego until Sunday. Bella slept in bed with me last night, which was slightly fuzzier and more perilous than my regular sleeping experience. Jacob doesn't usually scratch if you pull the blankets away from him, but then, he doesn't purr either. Bella didn't nag me to get out of bed this morning, but neither did she walk me to the BART station. Since the score appears to be tied, I won't plan on leaving the man and running away with the cat just yet.
I got suckered pretty well last night. The roommate who doesn't cook said we should all make dinner together; the roommate who does cook enthusiastically agreed. Pot pie, she suggested? It was a hit. But, she said, she really wanted to clean the bathroom so maybe non-cooking roommate and I could make the pot pie? There's a small problem here which was not immediately apparent to me, which is that You Can't Do Things If You Don't Know How. And if there's one kitchen activity I hate, it's trying to cook while also handholding someone else's cooking efforts. Select a portion of the cooking process and do it by yourself, by all means. Require my input, no.
Since this didn't occur to me at the time of the suggestion, I didn't sensibly disavow any involvement with the pot pie and retire to my room to play computer games. I spent an hour and a half making gravy and roux and biscuit dough and chopping vegetables and boiling potatoes and explaining that the flour sifter is not a strainer for corn and no, it doesn't matter what order you put the vegetables in the pan but adding them all to the gravy first isn't going to make your life any easier. I was in a wide array of moods about it and wound up a paragon of crankiness by the time bedtime rolled around.
Notes on moving into the cottage: Jacob can cook, and doesn't like to clean the bathroom. This is an important advantage over many other people, and will drastically reduce my time spent in Cranky Suckerville. Yay.Posted by dianna at August 12, 2004 12:02 PM