That’s why I’m in pajamas on my couch on this fine Friday night. Out of respect for the club. I wouldn’t want to overwhelm it.
Instead, I spent most of my Friday night cleaning my apartment.
Really, I prefer to tidy my home after dark. This allows me to remain happily in denial about its actual state of cleanliness.
Holy moly, was it so easy and so good.
I started things off by plucking a few leaves from my scrappy little basil plants.
It’s true. I haven’t killed them yet. I know; I’m shocked, too! This is a first for me. Eating something that I grew myself, that is. It only took me thirty years of eating things grown by other people to master agriculture on its most basic level.
Mock me if you will, but it’s kind of thrilling. Although I’m probably going to get a big head about it and try to plant rows of corn on my little balcony. Or something.
Mixed together the cheese, chopped seeded tomato, and basil. Tried to resist eating it by the spoonful. (I used regular shredded mozz instead of fresh and it was just fine.)
Lacking a proper ramekin or small baking dish, I lined my trusty cupcake pan with silicone baking cups and baked away, shortening the bake time to ten minutes on account of the smaller diameter.
I ended up with lovely globs of browned cheese that slid easily out of the baking cups.
With an Italian chicken sausage and a hunk of baguette for a balanced meal. (Balanced if carbs and cheese are considered food groups, anyway.)
Cleaning, cheese dinner, and the rest of last night’s marginal bottle of cheap Chardonnay? If you hadn’t already guessed, I’m ridin’ solo tonight.
(But O HAI STALKERS AND ROBBERS: I haz protection. You’ll have to get through two fierce felines to get to me. And also the doorman downstairs. Be sure to ask him about his Angry Birds score as you walk by.)
Alright, back to watching Pretty Woman on TNT. In my cat-hair-covered pajama pants and oversized race tee.
Yeah…the club is really shedding a tear over the loss of me right now.