So I’m in the kitchenette, waiting for the nukular to finish heating up my lunch. A coworker enters the kitchen and asks me if I’m hiding. Hiding? WTF? Can’t you hear and see the microwave running? Is she oblivious or just really bad at making small talk?
So. Much. Awkward.
Please, do take a step back. Or two. Or three! I don’t understand why, if there are three sinks in the restroom, and only one of them is occupied, you feel the need to stand directly behind me. If you must use the sink I’m using, don’t stand on top of me while you are waiting.
Thank you.
I don’t think I’ve ever made one before. I love to bake, but I’m more of a cake-and-bread-and-brownie baker, not a pie baker. When I was in the grocery store last week, though, I was suddenly overcome by the granny smith apples and had to have them. I’ve been really disappointed in apples the past few years, but these were damnfine tasty. So tasty that, after sharing one with Miss Brown, I had to make the rest into a pie.
It was good. And easy peasy. The crust even turned out decent, considering I’m a novice crust maker. And did I mention easy? Why did I think making pie crust was hard?
Mmmm. Pie.
No photos, alas. Maybe next time. And there will be a next time.
It’s been a crappy day. I woke up really early and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I got up and watched The Amazing Race. Bad idea. Reality TeeVee is supposed to be mindless, not make you feel weepy and nauseated and generally awful. And the day hadn’t improved. Blech.
So, after work I’m going to the Mecca of cheap-assed crap, Target, and I’m going to engage in some retail therapy. Specifically, toothpaste, a bottle of wine, cat litter, and some shelves for the pantry.
That is all. As you were, comrades.
red paper boat 