The wheels on the bus go...

So, while one car is held hostage by the extended warranty people at the dealership, I've been taking the bus to work. Thankfully, it only takes about five minutes more than driving does, and today, I had the foresight to bring a book along. I read about eight pages! It's nice to have this as an option, actually. If it wasn't so inconvenient for some work things, like going to the bank, I could probably make a case to do it all the time. Currently, Mike is driving his car to work. In two days, he put more mileage on it than I did all of last week. Hopefully we can get through these tedious negotiations and get the Grand Prix's repairs done and back in our possession today. I'm already drafting an unpleasant letter to the warranty people's customer service department in my head, because this is ridiculous.

In other news, I have joined up with a few other people on the third floor here to go for a half-hour walk about three times a week. I have high hopes that this little bit of exercise will compliment the salad-lunches, and may inspire me to go for my own walks when I get home on the off-days and weekends.

Local Pizzaria to the Rescue!

The kitchen and I have been having some disagreements this week. First, Mike cooked Saturday, because the stew I wanted to make took too long by the time we got home with the ingredients. Then, on Sunday, the stew turned out far, far too dry. As in, it was not a stew. It was a multi-layered slow-cooker casserole of some kind, but clearly not a stew, because there was no liquid in it whatsoever. Still, it was edible, with enough to drink. Monday’s dinner was so simple that I cringe at the thought of it, even though we did have pasta sauce in the fridge and meatballs in the freezer that we really had to eat.

Tuesday, though. Tuesday was a new experience. I realize that, in some ways, it wasn’t my fault. I was rushing through the preparation as I was working from home that afternoon, and needed to get started. Yes, I set our lovely automatic slow-cooker for six hours. I should have kept reading the recipe, because it said “low.” Our slow-cooker will cook for six hours. On high. By the time I realized the error, it was too late. Oh, we tried. But alas, the pork chops went in the garbage and out came the take-out menu.

First time in my life I’ve actually had to throw away dinner once it’s cooked. I’ve made a few bad starts in life, but never gotten to the end and rendered something inedible. Mike tells me not to worry about it, that I’m not the only one to ever ruin dinner, even in my own family, he’s sure. It still bugs me, though.

On a more positive note, despite the fact that I cut my finger slicing vegetables, yesterday’s dinner turned out just fine.