So I have NOT written my blog post yet at 6:16 on this Lame Post Friday evening.
6:16 by the clock on my stove. I am perched on a stool, watching sausage, pepper and onion cook in a cast iron frying pan. I dare not leave the room. I must be here to stir at need.
Steven is due home in a short time. At least, I’m sure it will be longer than I want it to be. Retail employees sometimes find difficulties in leaving on time. No matter, it seems dinner will not be ready precisely as planned.
It is fortunate that I only require a lame post of myself today. I tried, tried, tried to write something at work. Nothing doing. Blame it on the season? Cop to it as an occupational hazard? Demand credit for At Least Trying? In any case, I crave your indulgence (isn’t that an elegant phrase? I rather enjoyed it).
As usual, I hope for at least one Mohawk Valley adventure this weekend. Or I may sit on my butt watching Christmas movies and crocheting frantically. Whatever happens, I will report back. Happy Friday, everybody.
Full disclosure: As I typed in that it was 6:16 and I was perched on a stool, stirring, it was in fact, closer to 6:40 and I was slouched in an office chair, typing. I knew that would happen. It just felt weird. Me and my strange obsession with accuracy.