You know we love our kitties, and they are our furry kids, and I worry about them way too much, so I got the brilliant idea to cook our green parsley topped pot roast in the crockpot overnight while we slept so that we didn’t have to cook it while we were away from home for 12 hours today. That way if the apartment burned down we either rescued everyone or all went together. Morbid, but it makes me feel better to be around just in case. The bonus: We woke up to an amazing roast aroma. Extra bonus: Because I needed to hurry up and reheat it, I sliced the roast into pieces, then “boiled” them in their own gravy. Amaaaaaaaazing. We had Yukon mashed potatoes (from a box) and Pillsbury garlic butter crescent rolls (totally worth the garlic breath) with it.
Oh my goodness. To stop the rumor mill ahead of the rumor, I’m not preggers, with child, cooking a bun in my oven. I am lactose intolerant. I tend to eat a lot of fat free dairy and super aged cheese so that the lactose is lessened or completely void. Yesterday I had half and half, cottage cheese, fresh ricotta, fresh mozzarella, and ice cream. All in the same day. I spent all morning wishing I was knocked unconscious while the bad stuff oozed out of me and a nursemaid cleaned my bum.
Yup. I said it.
The best part was that I had to go to work today. And not only did I have to work my job, but I actually had to be the star of a video. Yes, my job lends itself to the occasional creative moment. I get to write fun content, I get to be in videos. I get to stand up in front of entire audiences and make bold but friendly statements. So, I was feeling extremely green but had to smile for the camera, so I had some crackers for lunch and then didn’t eat anything more all day. And I wore a headband. Can’t wait to see that video when it’s edited. (I’m not the one editing it. wah.)
I took the step to text my friend from my last job to ask what our St. Patrick’s Day plans are going to be. (Suggestion: Don’t go drinking with your new work buddies while you’re still on probation at your job. Another suggestion: Don’t call it probation like I’m a fucking criminal. One of those two things is in my control, the other isn’t.) She told me to come show up to their neck of the woods and she’d make sure something happened. This Thursday I fully expect to have my first green beer ever. And since Dawg will be on the isle of Man with me, working an event, I’ve asked him to drive me home if I don’t think I should go there myself. I’m old, I can handle approximately 3 beers and then it’s seriously bedtime, so I’m hoping not to be slipped secret vodka in my beers when I visit the ladies’ room.
I have no ending. I just like green.