Saturday, March 20, 2010

It is snowing.


Accordingly, Roommate and I are making a turkey. By which I mean: I spent the morning up to my elbows in gizzards and garlic, while Roommate patiently listened to my diatribe about the proper care and feeding of stuffing, and I snuck tastes of the aforementioned when it seemed like no one was looking.

Now, there's a pot of delicious goodness simmering on the stove, Sofa is snoring quietly in my lap, and the impending paper writing marathon is officially impossible to avoid. Six hours till the bird is done, and already it smells like heaven in the apartment.

Later, I will be explaining to Roommate how good gravy cannot possibly be made without good wine. (Oh, you were going to put it in the gravy? No, no, my friend.) The last of the logs need to be used on the fire, and the Red Pen of Justice will be getting a bit of a workout on the most recent journal submissions.

It is March, the first day of Spring, and 56 days till graduation. All in all, there are worse ways to start a new year.


Brandon said...

Sounds like a nice way to spend a weekend to me.

All rights reserved to my snotty and generally self-deprecating writing. And if your comments bother me, I'll delete them. That's right, pumpkin.
...How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
-- Emily Dickinson