Supper around these parts is a pretty rare thing. I mean, of course, the supper that we actually cook. In our own house. After working til all hours of the evening. Those suppers are a rare thing.
Tonight I got home at a reasonable hour. Reasonable enough that I was able to say pish-shaw to the errands I should be doing and instead had time to lay down and watch a little telly. I have to lay down in bed to watch it as we've moved the tv out of the living room in preparation for our new arrival. Anyway. Laying down to watch tv? After a hard day at Tiny Town? Makes me just want to lay some more.
My Mister called at 8:20, on his way home from his Card Mines, and wanted to know the supper scoop. I proudly proclaimed, "Tonight I shall cook!"
Don't get excited. I meant some soup that was in the freezer and grilled cheese sammiches.
And then he got home and I made the sammiches and they burnt a little bit, and I don't like them burnt so I had scrambled eggs instead. And even they weren't very good.
I was all out of practice and off my game.
We ate it, but we didn't necessarily enjoy it.
.....Some Days Feathers.