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[personal profile] desperance
I have not been feeling quite the thing today; so when it came lunchtime, of course my thoughts turned to hot and sour soup. Rather than send m'poor downtrodden put-upon wife out to the local Chinese (who actually make rather a good hot'n'sour), I bethought me of the stocks in our freezer, the leftover turkey still in our fridge, the makrut lime flourishing in our garden...

So yup. Maybe a pint and a half of chicken stock, simmering away; to which I added shredded lime leaves and sliced garlic and grated ginger (in quantity) and soy sauce and rice vinegar and pepper and Sichuan pepper and half a dozen of those fiery red frozen chillies from the Chinese grocery. Half an hour later, in went a couple of handfuls of shredded turkey and a nest of fresh noodles. People, it was splendid - and the chillies were hot enough that I didn't need the chilli oil that I kept handy just in case...

I am in hopes of feeling better enough - or at least sufficiently boiled-out within - to go to a dinner party tonight (our host whereof has already confessed to having woken up with a cold himself, so I am not too troubled about taking my germs along for the ride, if germs there be). However, notions of actual useful work today are already blown, so I have found a task fit for my nerveless mind this afternoon. I have declared that 20,000 emails in my inbox is actually too many, and I am ruthlessly deleting three years'-worth of conversations. I did briefly consider archiving for the record, but, y'know. I archived faithfully for a dozen years or more - nay, more: I've had email since the mid-nineties at least - and successively lost each of those archives to failure or burglary or lost-at-sea, with no observable consequences whatever, to me or to the historical record. Therefore, I am expunging. Thirty per cent has already been expunged. See me in my savagery... (But it might be time for a cup of tea and a rest. The sofa calls. Anon!)
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desperance

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