It’s been a quiet day on the work front. I’m looking forward to going into the office for a bit tomorrow. I have managed to rig up a small table so that I can bring my work PC home because my Mac and our server are still not talking to each other. All the surfaces in The Cave are too high for me to sit at and work. When I first moved in here, I had to stand on a chair to see inside my pots when I cooked. I found my little el-cheapo kitchen island in storage and brought it back home, making cooking a little easier, although I still stand on tippy-toes to see inside my larger pots.
Speaking of pots – I decided to make something chickeny. I opted for Butter Chicken – because I had everything needed to prepare the dish. I added a carrot, a potato and half a green pepper to give some colour and bulk. I killed it! I must say, I’m super proud of myself.
I had a plate for lunch and a short while ago, I had another smaller helping as a snack. The rest will be for a main meal tomorrow. Judging by the weather forecast, it will be the perfect weather for a spicy dish. I sent Elizabeth’s mom a message and promised that when I make it again, I’ll drop some off on her verandah. Like me, she enjoys a spot of Indian cuisine every now and then.
I received a video clip of my Goddaughter, Lily-Rose, today. She is playing PA to her mother. I have easily watched it twenty times already. It’s her crown birthday on June 3rd, and at the rate things are going with the lockdown, it is highly unlikely that I will be able to visit her on this special occasion. She is starting to get really cute now, and clever too. I have this fairytale fantasy that she is going to marry Eliza and Nathan’s youngest son. They would have the most gorgeous babies.
On other news:
I’ve transplanted Rachel the Rocket – I sincerely hope that she survives. She now lives in a little yellow pot, still in the kitchen windowsill. I’ll post a photo of her progress down the line.
I haven’t eaten a chocolate in a week. This is a record for me because while I am not a chocoholic, lockdown has brought out an insatiable sweet tooth in me.
I’m still decluttering. How can one person have so much stuff? And clothes?
Then, as I’ve mentioned before, I’m struggling to sleep. Here are some of the random questions that keep me up at night:
Are magazines going to be the antiques of the future? If so, must I keep the ones I have?
There is buttermilk in the fridge. Yes, I bought it. But for what? I’ve gone through all the recipes I’ve saved on my phone and not one of them calls for buttermilk.
I’m certain I don’t ever want to go to jail. Lockdown is incarceration enough. How is it that prisoners don’t lose their minds on the inside? Is death by shiv in the showers a relief of some sort, rather than going mad?
I wonder if it’s illegal to give people that have upset me in the past week a piñata filled with bees. I’d like to still be alive to see their unkindness met with the same sharp sting I experienced through their meanness toward me.
What’s that mysterious light shining in at my window? It can’t be burglars because the wall is too high, and the door that used to be there has been built shut. Could it be aliens? Why are they passing by? I am an intelligent life form!
Wait! You buggers! Come. Baaaaaacccccckkkkkkk! Take me with you to Mars!