Got off work at what feels like a ridiculously early time for a Friday night - dang I was home before 11 ferchrissakes.
Used the extra time to call my parents, though I did NOT inform them of my recent, uh, difficulties. We chatted for a long while, though, which seemed to make them both happy.
Now to figure out dinner, since I’m home early. It’s not even 12:30! My mom was scandalized - “Dinner at THIS hour!”
Ooh, and I have options!
Man, every news article about the insane-o-pants prices of eggs these days makes me want scrambled eggs, or maybe a soft-boiled egg or two.
Used to be the cheap-o poor folk protein; now having an egg feels like an extravagance. But I do have a few left in the fridge.
I also have sausage, and potatoes/onions/garlic; could make a hash.
Hmmm, there’s a couple frozen little tuna steaks, too, though I don’t know what I’d have with.
Could have a bowl of cereal. Don’t laugh - I rarely have fresh milk, so eating cereal on a whim is a luxury.
Aw, like JtC said, that’s a shitty feeling. In my experience, though, while it’s - let’s be realistic - the beginning of the end, cats usually spend quite a long time, often years, with that skinny frame and sorta moth-eaten scraggly fur and “grumpy old man/crabby old lady” attitude … while also soaking up sunshine & treats & scritches.
So, you know what you must do, human slave. Make with the treats! And the scritches!