dog-occupied closet by now. Of course I have. In fact, the lack of recipes is because I have been luxuriating in Ireland, staying at a spa, reflecting on the green rolling hills and the soft white sheep that dot the countryside. I've been sparing no expense, which is probably why I managed to blow five grand on Monday alone.
Wait...nope, that wasn't me. That was the asshole that stole my credit card number, providing the icing on the extra-tasty F- You January cake.
I'm here, pretty much where I always am, minus about 12 inches because my back hurts waaaay too much for me to sit on the sofa. Instead I am on the floor taking a brief procrastination break between cursing at a work presentation I'm preparing and making grilled sandwiches for dinner. When my evening gets to the really good part, I'll be able to lay flat on my back on the floor in my pajamas with my legs up on the coffee table. Please don't envy me too much. In a few days I'll realize it's February and get back to my normal life, which hopefully will include more cooking and less self-pity.