A quiet day in all regards, toilets scrubbed and hen house cleaned.
I will make no claims about it being a poopy day.
Draw your own conclusions.
Because I could not force myself to get into the car and drive to town, I am going to make a tuna casserole for our supper tonight. Comfort food? Oh, it truly would be if I had some Kraft Macaroni and Cheese in the blue box. But I do not and so I will have to make my own with onions and celery and noodles and cheese, etc.
I also do not have any potato chips to crunch up and put on top.
The mood I'm in, I'd cut up hotdogs and cook them with a can of baked beans but I do have a shred of decency left in me. Please don't ask me why I have hotdogs in the house.
Whoa, come to think of it, I don't have any Campbell's Cream Of anything soup.
Will this even qualify as a tuna casserole?
Yes. Yes it will because I have some baby peas.
My husband is a lucky man, right?
(He hates peas.)
Why does the gray feral cat want me to pet her? Why is she still alive?
These and many more questions are floating to the top of the dregs of this thing I call a consciousness tonight.
Tomorrow will be better. It fucking better be.