![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceOkay, new rule: no more glass bowls in the fridge. Especially when containing luscious supper. One might, f'rexample, set them down on spilled lard, which might have chilled into a slippy stuff, thus causing the bowl to slide out of the fridge next time one opened the door and shatter on the kitchen floor...
Grr.
In other news, this has been one of Those Days. I have a lot of these, or possibly These: where I go into the Lit & Phil in the morning and write a thousand disciplined words and then head home, reckoning on a 2K day at least. And drift through the countless retail opportunities on the way, and faff around with e-mail and late lunch and an episode of Buffy, and then go shopping at the supermarket, and come home and busy myself with mincing a kilo of pork and making poor-man's chorizo (in tupperware, in the fridge) and baking pork scratchings and boiling rice and cleaning up the mess of broken bowls and emptying the garbage and tidying the kitchen and and and, and almost nothing more gets written at all except the odd blog post. Sigh. Can I blame the cats?
Grr.
In other news, this has been one of Those Days. I have a lot of these, or possibly These: where I go into the Lit & Phil in the morning and write a thousand disciplined words and then head home, reckoning on a 2K day at least. And drift through the countless retail opportunities on the way, and faff around with e-mail and late lunch and an episode of Buffy, and then go shopping at the supermarket, and come home and busy myself with mincing a kilo of pork and making poor-man's chorizo (in tupperware, in the fridge) and baking pork scratchings and boiling rice and cleaning up the mess of broken bowls and emptying the garbage and tidying the kitchen and and and, and almost nothing more gets written at all except the odd blog post. Sigh. Can I blame the cats?