I was just feeling some guilt, nay, dare I say shame, about still being in my pj's at 2 in the afternoon, and then a thought struck me. I may be a blogger. The 90's slacker becomes the 00's blogger? Here I sit, ok, almost lie, in bed with the tv on, cat curled up at my side, wi-fi laptop pushing her out of the place of preference.
I'm not totally useless. I have a ham bone and some vegetables stewing for a spicy bean and kale soup. I filled the dishwasher. I made a huge pot of Nigella Lawson's ratatouille last night in the slow cooker overnight because it was the biggest pot I have. That's the absolute last time I do that. I've got such a sensitive sniffer that by the morning, after smelled it all night in my sleep, I felt like I was stewing with it in the slow cooker. And it was overcooked, even on low. 2 hours max on the stove would have done it. That's it, I just need a bigger pot.
Geez, this sounds like a food blog. I was reading some of orangette last night, that's probably why. I'm on a cooking jag, trying to freeze up some meals for next month while I'm recovering from a hysterectomy. Fuzz is a good cook but he's really busy with work and I'm too much of a control freak to consider a month of crazy curries, chops and takeout.
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