Patience. On a monument.

If I had remembered five minutes earlier that I meant to make granary rolls to go with the lunchtime soup, I could be having soup and rolls right about now. Om-nom, I could've been going. But alas: my mind slipped that essential gear during the crucial moments where I kneaded and shaped the dough and oiled the tin and set it in the oven.

So I'm making a loaf, and it'll take another half an hour to bake and then fifteen minutes to cool down a bit because bread loses all its structure if you slice it straight from the oven (and no, I don't actually know why that is, but it is), and - well. I'll be hungry then, I expect. That's all to the good, probably.

Waah!

*falls over on stairs*

*spills wine and olive oil all over books, floor, self*

*wipes up floor and books*

*fetches towel to wipe up self*

*discovers, post-wiping, that towel is white and red wine is ... red*

*starts another load of laundry*