Recovering from the festival on Sunday I reversed my sleep/wake cycle proportions, waking for 9 hours and sleeping for 15. In between I wore flannel and floppy socks and slunk around like a stunned skunk. I dressed for a couple of hours after lunch and took the girls out to ValuVillage for Halloween provisioning. They are planning a huge and elaborate party. While they pondered pink wigs and daggers with built in blood-drip compartments, I looked at the houseware that people have given up. Mostly from the kitchens of gone Grandmas I think. Most fascinating was a pressure canner. It was big enough to boil a basketball with room to spare, and tightened with frightening looking 4-inch long heavy-duty screws. It appeared to be vintage 1940. A good value at $35.99 if it works - or maybe even for antique value but I left it. Too much of a commitment of space and I'd have to try it and I'd probably blow something up. Like the time my mom's pressure cooker exploded and there were black beans on the ceiling. Nope, not the right day for that. I fell asleep on the couch about 5 minutes after supper and was down for the night. Monday morning I felt like creamed death on toast or maybe an economy-size jar of ennui (low sodium variety). I oozed in to work, grateful for no meetings and hung around my office all day looking like a big black slug in my dark dark clothes and my wool scarf which I wore all day long. Tofu in spicy garlic sauce from the szechuan helped a bit at lunchtime but not much. Now I'm home and there are flannel sheets and two pillows all my own, although I'll throw one on the floor. Sleeepppp.
question - ever have a possum day?
mompoet - mom-possum