paying the price
I have a good amount of work to do by tomorrow, and I’m totally motivated to do it. The problem is that I somehow convinced The Little Red Haired Girl to make fried chicken for dinner. It’s sizzling away on the stove now, and it’s like torture. Southern frying torture. It smells good, it sounds good, it looks good, the weather is perfect for it, all the windows are open and there are sounds of people hanging out coming into the house. argh. I have to go shut myself in the bedroom if I’m to survive.