The BB fate for flavours
Back to quiet time: the house guests have headed back down the highway, and the lady of the manor is off to visit fancy gardens. Just me and the dog around for the heat wave. If he starts a conversation, I’m going to blame it on too much warm weather.
Last evening, we were called out by the kids, when our mayo was past due. I hadn’t thought about condiments and that BB clause for some time. This afternoon, I went commando on the shelves. The septic system is now entering a flavourful phase, the recup bag has a new selection of old jars and I have extra room in the fridge. I’m sure we’ll find ourselves here another time, given that portions assume more than two at the table, but we’ve given ourselves a chance to change the mix of tastes on the dinner plate.
There’s also a clean set of bedding set aside for each bed, and the towel hamper is empty. Domestic engineer on duty.
Not much else to add: we missed the fireworks, last evening. Perhaps they were fantastic. Or not. The next year will be this year before I’m ready. I’ll check around on the web and see if I can catch the Fourth of July show in a live broadcast. Turn up the volume, ignore the small size of my laptop screen and pretend to be entranced by the show.
Somewhere, in a dark, dank corner of Thailand, rescuers have freed a soccer team (twelve lads and their coach) from a cave system that allowed them in before inconveniently flooding. A happy ending to what could have been something much more tragic.
