Learned earlier that the wife will be staying at her moms tonight - helping with cleaning and cooking to take some of the load off. Her mom's doing better, but not 100 percent yet. So I took the opportunity to soak in the hottub and crank up some old tunes. Had a really cold Bud Light and the remains of a particularly stout Cuban cigar... and watched the clouds race across the sky, there must be some pretty fast upper winds.
Then I dried off and hit the fridge. Ate about half a big jar of sliced grapefruit with a little sugar on it - and a peanut butter sandwich. Oh, and about two pints of ice cold milk. MMMM! The "Gods of the Frigidaire" must be smiling on me tonight, the whole thing was a near-religious experience! I'm sure it will trigger an immense chemical reaction later, just when I'm dozing off... but for now, I can't wipe the satisfied look off my face.
See, if Tawnya were home tonight she'd surely remind me how unhealthy it is to eat late at night and how much cholesterol peanut butter has... and how Wonder bread contains no real nutrients, and that all this eating SHOULD have waited until the morning... but hey. She's gone.
The good news, there's still some week-old meatloaf in there, some leftover breakfast potatoes, the rest of that jar of grapefruit and some spicy polish sausage. And there's still about a half-gallon of perfect-temperature ('bout 34 degrees) fresh milk left. Sounds to me like a plan for tomorrow night at around bedtime. In fact, I'm SURE of it. I wonder if I could talk my wife into one more night with her mom. Hmmmm...
I wish we had some spam.