Lockdown: Sleeping beauty

I was about to say I don’t know where Sunday went, but honestly, it went to Saturday night. I got up before noon and did a few normal Sunday things, but then I went back to bed and didn’t really get up until past two. And there was a nap later for like two hours. I know. Ridiculous.

I felt kind of yucky all day, still managing to get a little more of the Hawaii Stories project done. I have three more narratives to read and edit, and I think I’ll be able to get to them Monday after work.

That’s about it, really. It wasn’t much of a day, despite best intentions.

Breakfast was the last of the turkey chili with hapa rice I made Saturday night.

Lunch was insane. I broke out the waffle iron Penny gave me and actually read the instructions. There’s not much to a waffle iron, really. I made the batter using a different recipe from the one I used last week. This one was loaded — I mean freaking loaded — with eggs and butter. So many eggs. So much butter.

The sourdough waffles kind of took forever. I don’t know what I’m doing. A waffle iron might not much to it, but waffles kind of do if you don’t know what you’re doing, and I clearly don’t. I turned out the first waffle quickly; the first on a new appliance is usually grody anyway, so I didn’t see the need to do a good job on it, ‘though I did eat it.

The next seemed to take forever to cook, and when I bit into it, I realized why: I way, way overcooked it. Weird, I know the concept of a waffle: crisp on the outside, fluffy on the inside. Yet as I tried to recollect what a good waffle is like — that is, how crispy, how light, how airy, how fluffy, how flavorfull — I really couldn’t remember. It’s because I almost never, ever, ever order waffles when I go out.

I had the chicken and waffles from Pancakes and Waffles last Saturday, on my way back from the beach, but before that I honestly couldn’t tell you when or where I’d ever had a waffle before it. I know I have; I simply don’t remember it, because it was so long ago.

So honestly. I don’t know how the rest of the waffles came out, besides pretty. Oh, they’re pretty. But are they too crisp? Are they cooked too far? Do they taste okay? Ugh. I have no idea. And by the time I used up the batter, I just wasn’t interested in eating them. I’d had one and a half already, just standing there waiting for them all to cook.

I let them cool on a rack and put them in a Ziploc for tomorrow. I’ll freeze whatever I don’t eat. I’m sure I can think of good uses for them if I don’t actually eat them the way a waffle is meant to be eaten. Fruit and yoghurt, maybe. Or maybe a waffle pizza.

The entire waffle adventure took most of the evening, which cut into my work time.

I skipped the walk. I really, really wanted to go, but I knew if I did, I wouldn’t touch the Hawaii Stories work, and that stuff has been the neglected victim of too many late walks. It was time for HS to be the immovable object.

I was elbows-deep in this work when I got hungry for dinner. Ugh. I still had leftover rice but wasn’t interesting in throwing anything together, so once again I had canned corned beef hash with hapa rice and it was freaking lovely. Yes, I feel terrible. But yes, I feel terrible in such a good way.

I don’t think I snacked on anything Sunday. Weird.

I’m listening to Hiroshima’s Third Generation album (1983), an album I bought on cassette in 1987. I was kind of a big fan for a few years. I played the heck out of this album my first year of college, when the purpose of owning a red pickup truck was to drive everywhere all the time and listen to music the whole way. Go and Another Place might be better albums, and I loved them both in my twenties, but this one’s special.

I’m still a little grouchy about the disagreement with Ali Saturday night. When we’re clicking, we communicate so well. But when we aren’t, nothing I say or do is right. It’s so weird. I can’t think of another friendship I’ve ever had like this.

We traded a few texts Sunday about a different subject, and I think there was a cautious warming of relations, but geez. I’m still reeling from the pummeling I took Saturday.

That was it. There were emails, all of them related to Hawaii Stories. No DMs or IMs. I think it’s just as well.

Should really have taken that walk.

It’s ten to four. I’m going to try and be comatose by 4:30, looking forward to a nice, productive Monday. Fresh start. New dawn. Promise of a new day. Now I’m going to have Paula Abdul stuck in my ear all night.

Let’s connect if you’re feeling disconnected.

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