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rejectomorphWhere is my brain? Beuller? Anybody?
Cripes. I went to sleep about one o'clock Monday morning, too tired after cooking and eating a big dinner to write anything, thinking I'd probably be up about five, but remained asleep until after seven. Then it was one thing after another, and even though I had the LJ entry form open I kept forgetting to post anything. Now I've forgotten all the stuff that kept distracting me, and thus have nothing to write about but not writing.
Oh, sunnyish day, day the trash bins go out, and moderately warm. The furnace hasn't been running much, so I'm saving some money on gas. Three days of chill and rain coming up at the end of the week, though, so March coming in like a lion I guess. A soggy lion. I should probably try to time my meals so I get soup those days. Or maybe at least some chili beans. This afternoon I've got an inexplicable craving for something I've never seen or heard of, and which my imagination might have just invented: California poutine, consisting of French fries, queso fresco, and mole poblano. Too bad the shopping is already done. By the time I shop again I'll probably have forgotten all about it. Too bad. It sounds pretty good, in a declassee borderland teenager sort of way.
Cripes. I went to sleep about one o'clock Monday morning, too tired after cooking and eating a big dinner to write anything, thinking I'd probably be up about five, but remained asleep until after seven. Then it was one thing after another, and even though I had the LJ entry form open I kept forgetting to post anything. Now I've forgotten all the stuff that kept distracting me, and thus have nothing to write about but not writing.
Oh, sunnyish day, day the trash bins go out, and moderately warm. The furnace hasn't been running much, so I'm saving some money on gas. Three days of chill and rain coming up at the end of the week, though, so March coming in like a lion I guess. A soggy lion. I should probably try to time my meals so I get soup those days. Or maybe at least some chili beans. This afternoon I've got an inexplicable craving for something I've never seen or heard of, and which my imagination might have just invented: California poutine, consisting of French fries, queso fresco, and mole poblano. Too bad the shopping is already done. By the time I shop again I'll probably have forgotten all about it. Too bad. It sounds pretty good, in a declassee borderland teenager sort of way.
