Wednesday, 21 October 2009

Lady who lunches

I took a lunch break in between my working at home stuff today, which felt like a real luxury.

Usually I just switch on the work laptop in the morning and get on with whatever I am doing till hunger strikes. Then I go downstairs, forage a meal/snack/pathetic cry for help from whatever I can find kicking around, come back up here and continue with the business of the day until either I get bored, go cross-eyed or Mr WithaY gets home.

Today, though, I thought I'd take an actual break. In between toasting, spreading with Marmite and eating a bagel I also:

a) Emptied, then refilled, the dishwasher

b) Tidied up all my shoes that were taking over the house

c) Went over the cooker hood underside with some Flash wipes (and they were a real discovery, let me tell you), horrifying myself with the layers of greasy fudgey filth that were removed. I did wash my hands before continuing to eat my bagel, in case you were worrying.

d) Put a load of washing into the washing machine.

I am good at multi-tasking. Sadly, my bagel was dull and unappealing, as they sometimes are, so lunch itself was a bit of a disappointment.

I am also time-limited in terms of working today as my gorgeous guitar teacher is due over soon, so I need to make sure the place is reasonably tidy. Those amps take up a lot of space.

When I staggered home last night, late and tired and train-dazed, Mr WithaY had made the World's Largest Lamb Biriani, with the remains of our Sunday roast lamb. By Swansea it was good. We're having it again tonight; there is still enough left to feed at least six people. I may then freeze any leftovers. Four days of lamb in a row is enough, I think.

Hopefully we are having some mates over for dinner* tomorrow night, all being well, but as I won't get home till 8 at least, Mr WithaY will have to manage the food. Which, to be fair, he is spectacularly good at.

I am the underchef in our kitchen. Maybe even just the kitchen porter. The one who peels potatoes and carrots, and tidies up as the Master Genius Creative Talent works his magic. I put stuff away as we go along, and keep the surfaces clear and check the timers on things. Sometimes, if I am feeling especially brave, I make a pudding, or bread, or maybe even a chilli. The arrangement seems to work.

One of my sisters pointed out the killer logic flaw in my "I am fed up being fat" whinge that I indulge in from time to time. She pointed out that I often bake.

And what do I bake? Bread. Cakes. Biscuits. Quiche. Pies. Chocolate torte. All the stuff I'm good at. Doesn't take the brains of an archbishop to work that particular cause and effect spiral out, does it?

Gah, that list reads like the "Never Eat These" elements of a nutritionist's chart.

So, today it's a bagel and then later on, some biriani. And I think salad. There's salad in the fridge, at the back, behind the cheese. Somewhere.

*We're not having lamb

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