Well, I just ate a Lean Cuisine Chicken…something, what was it? Oh, Carbonara for lunch. It wasn’t good. It was edible but you know, not really tasty. It just seemed like a good day for something warm and starchy, as it’s chilly and grey and kind of…it’s not rainy really, it’s more like the heavens are giving me rapberries (or Bronx cheers, if you prefer) and I keep kind of getting sprayed but not wet. In general, it’s vaguely miserable but not entirely horrible. Gloomy. That’s a good word for it. Gloomy. So, I guess the Chicken Carbonra was fitting because that too was pretty gloomy and not at all satisfying. So I had a cracker with some Rosemary, Apricot Chicken Salad but that too was not as pleasureable as it should have been. And it had almonds on it. Which, in theory, is fine, because hey, I like almonds. But in practice? With the rosemary and the apricots and the chicken, was just too much going on. And the crackers were kind of eh too. So I got rid of that and had some yoghurt. Which was good. So it’s not a total wash. But you know what? I could have milked the impending anniversary of my birth for a lunch out. But I was foolish. I am not one to have the week long celebrations (ahem, BFF and husband, it’s a birthDAY not a birthWEEK).
So, the point? Um…it’s chilly? See, that’s how I tie today into something I started writing yesterday and didn’t finish.
Now that it is getting chilly here in L.A. (but don’t get used to it, we will have some randomly blisteringly hot days still…probably around the time I need to do any large amount of cooking. Thanksgiving maybe, or whenever I decide I need to make 20 dozen cupcakes for a party or something). But for now…chilly. Not cold, not icy. Just cool enough to be uncomfortable if you weren’t paying attention and didn’t put on a jacket before you left the house. Chilly enough, for a normal person, to maybe want to sleep UNDER the covers. Chilly enough for me, an unnormal person, to sleep in three layers with two blankets and a hot water bottle. Yes, I took a hot water bottle to bed with me the other night. My feet and nose were cold and I couldn’t decide where to put it for optimal heating. It ended up on the feet. The nose suffered.
We have lit the heater and washed the winter comforter. The cat has begun burrowing under blankets begging for cuddles. And it’s what? 60 degrees? That’s nothing. But it’s enough nothing to make me shiver.
Currently regretting: lunch
Currently talking about: Beau Brummel and prison versions of Hamlet
Currently wishing: I had another sweater