11.27.2002 || 23h07

dirty deeds, done dirt cheap.

Yum. To-night, Marv and I actually made supper. He made long-grain rice with wild rice and walnuts, and I saut�ed some peppers and onions and other veggies with some strips of deer that I'd marinated in olive oil, garlic, and port. We accompanied that with organic grain bread and brie while drinking a half-bottle of red wine out of my pewter goblets, and basically felt pretty damned good about ourselves. It was nice to cook something again. I've been too damned busy lately, but I really like to do it.

It was a nice way to end a day that started way too early. I had to be at work for 8h00 to-day. the week-end busboy and I pulled the gas stove, hot plate, fridge, grill, and two deep-friers away from the back wall of the kitchen, and scrubbed and scraped that wall until it was shining.

Unfortunately, that meant also pulling up the 3 or 4 cm of coagulated french fries that coated the floor behind the appliances. By the time we were done, we stank to high heaven of crusty, stale grease and unmentionables. My days cleaning up faeces and blood at the Jewish Nursing Home held me steady while the poor guy almost puked at the smells that we were releasing from hiding back there.

Ough. And at busboy wages, too.

Hey, and then I followed that up with a full workday. Whoo-hoo!

To-night, my love is sleeping at home, which is too bad because I really need a backrub.

Oh, I have an utter selfishness to confess: Last night, Mystie was crying quite a bit about school and the tenuousness of her being here and alladat, and in stead of being totally in with the 'Christ, she never wants to go back Stateside, so how the fuck is she going to handle it if she gets sent home?' the very first thought that occurred to me was 'Christ, if she gets sent home, it'll just tear me in half.'

I felt pretty crappy about that to-day, I must admit. Pretty damned crappy. I don't think she'll have to leave or anything, especially now that she seems to have been kicked into high-gear about getting her shite together, but that was still what hit me first. I also think that, in the unlikely case that she has to leave, she'll have a hard enough time of it that I'll be too busy trying to help her to even think about me for a while.

But the fact remains that if she has to leave, nobody'd better speak to me for a long, long time.



||Gods save the Queen,
||cf

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older shite

One last little note... - 09.21.2006

de-stressing, biking and terrorism - 06.06.2006

Mildly stressed... - 05.29.2006

More crime stupidity - 05.28.2006

Scary stuff - 05.25.2006

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