This wasn't one of those lazy Sundays when I spent the whole day cocooned inside the house, but it might as well have been. Just about the only times I ventured through the front door were to take another load of garbage out to the garage. When you cook with a lot of onions and garlic, it's imperative to keep the indoor can as empty as possible.
Tonight I cooked raw shrimp, so you can probably almost smell my fingers on the keyboard. At least the house doesn't smell like charred meat, the way it did about a week ago. I don't remember what I made that night, but I don't think I'll ever cook it again. There was a time there when I was afraid someone would drop by unexpectedly and accuse me of some heinous food-related crime. And I would have been guilty.
So it was actually my cooking that drove me out of the house today, those few times. Most of the rest of the day I spent in the recliner. I watched some TV, but I got more reading done that in any one day all year. I know this for a fact, because until a week ago I'd been reading the same book since January 1, and I was only on about page 50. Now I'm over halfway through my current read, and for me that's astounding progress.
Papers kept spewing out into the fax tray all day long. I don't know if the Boss was in a coma last week or what, but this is almost the first I've heard from him in several days. I still don't have his reaction to the Big Project, though. I'd like to hear "good job," but the more likely response will be, "Can you clear something up for me?"
No matter how hard I try to do the clarifications ahead of time, I can never anticipate everything that goes through his mind. There are so many nooks and crannies in his brain that he never fails to make me reel with the convoluted logic of his questions and comments. I ought to be used to it, after almost eighteen years, but you can know what's coming and still be startled when the roller coaster does the big drop.