Wednesday night is date night. Last night was yoga night, and thanks to the snowfall, it took me almost an hour to travel ten miles. I would have turned around but the northbound traffic was worse than my southbound traffic, and 45 minutes of yoga was better than no yoga. By the time I left the studio, the traffic had magically disappeared, and I glided easily home.
Ordinarily, traffic heading downtown in the evening is light, and at first I could not figure out why so many people were going my way. Then it dawned on me that there weren't more cars on the road, they were just going so slowly that traffic slid to a halt. Bearing this in mind, this morning I sent my SO an email, warning him off trying to make his way north tonight. He pooh-poohed me, and when I left work shortly after four and the roads were clear, I felt a little silly. But guess what? Even though he left early, he ran into the same problem, compounded by xmas shoppers who stayed home last night and are planning to stay home tomorrow night when the ice storm is supposed to hit. He gave up and went home.
So I'm already in my jammies and terry cloth robe. When I thought we would be eating out, my taste buds were primed for Chinese. When I discovered we were not eating out, my focus switched to popcorn, the single person's hot meal. I cook mine on the stove, but for some reason did not check the gas flame under the pot. The oil went up in smoke, literally. I hope that pan is not ruined; it's soaking in vinegar right now.
(It's things like these that make me worry about getting old. At what point should I not be allowed to cook for myself? Better to call Meals on Wheels.)
Plan B (or C?) was bacon and egg and toast. The bacon was left over from Thanksgiving (two slices went into the butternut squash soup), so I cooked it extra crispy to ward off food poisoning. There was only one egg, so I splurged on two pieces of toast and, since I was feeling a little sorry for myself by then, cinnamon sugar on the toast. And apple juice.
Between the vinegar and the bacon, the smell of burnt corn oil has almost faded from the kitchen. I'm nearing the end of both I Was Told There'd Be Cake and Planetwalker. (When did I start reading more than one book at a time?) There are bills to be paid, pets to groom, litter boxes to clean. Why, we're just having a grand time tonight.