As birthday gifts to myself go, cheese is pretty spectacularly bad. The stabbing pain in my abdomen is telling me that it won't be so easy to slip that stuff by them anymore. You'd think for a birthday they'd be nicer, but no, the stuff in my abdomen decided to re-assert it's anti-dairy thingy today.
So if this is a little weird, blame that. Stabbing pain does strange things to a girl.
I spent New Years Eve reading books and hoping my car didn't blow up. $600 last year gets you a fine running car that leaks everything *except* oil. Air, radiator, windshield wiper, automatic steering, gas... those all leak.
Cars do not, by the way, normally just blow up around me. Strange stuff happens sometimes, but on NYE everyone and their cat was setting off fireworks in my neighborhood. I was convinced one of them was gonna aim a bottle rocket wrong and hit the gas-leaky part of the car. But no. Fireworks until 2 AM, no flaming ball of vehicular death. Win.
Food-wise, things have been really boring around here. I made a vat of chickpeas and then turned them into a way too spicy curry. Some got wasted. Realised that I'm not really eating any veggies, but there isn't much I'm able or willing to do about it just now. I actually have some beets (I think) that would be good, but the RM thing makes kitchen timing ... interesting.
Now, I'm going to go back to sleep and eventually enjoy the rest of my birthday. Even if it does mean I'm getting old. Pleh to that, I say. Pleh.