I am amazed at how kitchen-ly unmotivated I am with my spouse-man gone. I think tonight was the last night to glean a meal from leftovers. I ate a stuffed sweet potato from the other night, a quesadilla, a green salad, a tangelo and a handful of wasabi peas. I did this all while standing at the counter supervising my seven-year old redhead make Malt-O-Meal. I also ate each thing separately, not knowing what I would eat next until I finished the current food and looked for the next. I think it went well.
I, for whatever self-centered reason, decided to start every sentence with the pronoun I. I succeeded. I am tired and my writing is getting ridiculous. I am sorry.
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