Sloth and slightly tipsy cooking were my night, because when making a white wine sauce I tend to follow the Floyd method of one for me and one for the pot. Chicken, mushrooms, onion, lots of garlic, sour cream, white wine and a little philli cheese .. but something was missing - it needed bacon.
Bacon makes everything better.
Except for my bowels, which have developed a very judgemental attitude to bacon. I'm going to have to become one of those psycho breakfasters who have to tailormake my order. One egg, one rash of bacon, half the amount of mushrooms you normally serve someone. I've been too embarrassed up until now to ask for less and it seems so wrong when one is paying over $20 for an egg and bacon breakfast not to eat all of it. Townsville is an expensive place to eat breakfast.
Rental Inspection is on Monday. I have only sort of cleaned the lounge room. Plainly speaking I cleared the floor and mopped. However, my method of clearing the floor isn't sustainable. I stuffed all the junk into garbage bags. The temptation is there to just throw everything out. It would make it so much easier to keep things neat and clean if I didn't own anything.
It's a variation of my method for clearing my bedroom, which involves putting all the clothing in the dirty laundry basket - well ... baskets - and craming them into a corner of the laundry. A rotary clothesline can hold a lot of clothes.
And why WHY do the cats always start vomiting when I have a rental inspection due? Are they manifesting my symptoms? Do I have panic phermones? What if the millitary find out? I'd be stuffed away into a secret underground bunker and probed before I could say noodlemeister.