A Solitary Day

Once my father picked up Miss Peanut today, there was quiet - the kind of quiet that invigorates, not calms. Good thing, too, since my house was a mess! Three days without running the dishwasher in my house is something akin to a disaster, especially during a typical week where I've cooked almost every night. Tying on an apron, defiantly looping the bow in front - I'm slim enough to that now, hah! - I unlatched the dishwasher to find... dirty dishes. Seems that the Good Samaritan that had loaded and "run" the dishwasher earlier in the week had neglected to unwrap the tablet. Hmmmmm, wonder who that could be? (Picture archly raised eyebrow here)

This put a serious kink into my plans, as I was now grimly facing down a double sink brimming with unwashed dishes. You remember that "Good Samaritan" crack, right? Well, that is the attitude most often taken by the WCM toward doing any kind of chore inside the house: he's "helping" me. He doesn't see that he has any kind of share in the work on the inside of the house. Bless his pea-pickin' l'il heart. His good work put me behind in my "fun-having" schedule for the day.

So, after a bit of organizing and setting one sink of dishes to soak in some hot soapy water while the dishwasher worked its magic (with an unwrapped tablet this time - I am, after all, a professional), I instead tackled the behemoth of a vacuum cleaner. Now, I have no real problem per se with the vacuum cleaner, but I just don't seem to use it enough - especially for a woman with two corgis. I had to empty it three times after doing two rooms - rooms where there are mainly hardwood floors! Hairy little buggers, corgis are. But, my nifty new-ish vacuum has all kinds of neato spiffy attachments, so I used all of 'em! I love the little one that has a rotating brush in it to clean upholstered furniture. I turned my sofa inside out and vacuumed every inch of it. Sound domestic? I was. I washed. I dusted. I vacuumed.

Both of my longtime readers may remember my attitude toward housework. It still stands. And I have it on good authority that doing my housework would be well worth the pay. Still, no takers. Alas... After the vacuuming was complete, I took myself out for an errand run, came back, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, and watched a movie: The Jane Austen Book Club. It was fantastic! Definitely a chick flick, though. When it was done, it was time for dinner.

I took myself out to a local eatery, called Culinaria. It's a nice little bistro, where I enjoyed a tasty Merlot with incredibly mouth-watering lamb chops served on a bed of broccoli rabe and mashed potatoes. Seriously amazing food! Dessert, though, was the most amazing mouthgasmic experience I've ever had - and believe me, in my 37 years as a professional eater, I've had some seriously awesome tastebud explosions. This one topped them all. I seriously had to wave away the server because I was having "a moment." It was a flourless chocolate torte, so rich and creamy, but with enough resistance to the tongue as to provide a challenge to that muscle. I swear, my eyes closed and my toes curled during that first bite. I think I may have moaned, or at least whimpered a bit... Served with a hot coffee, strong and bitter enough even through the cream and sugar that I doctored it with, to cut the sweetness, it was the perfect end to a perfect meal.

When I got home, the WCM's butt was firmly planted in his chair, computer anchored in his lap as is his wont, and the indifference in the room thick enough to serve sliced with tea. So, I did what I usually do - I escaped to the kitchen and baked a cake.

So now, I've got cake. Want some?