Sort of like Friday the Thirteenth.

On Saturday, a series of minor catastrophes led up to my being like something dragged through a knothole by dinnertime. Not the least or greatest of which was spilling a platterful of beef drippings in the middle of the kitchen floor after I had mopped it. Then Susan showed up with the backache, and both of us moaned and groaned all evening--I moaned louder, I'm afraid. Reed came with Ramey, and he wasn't a bit happy, wanted to go home, to which Ramey finally gave in, and they left just a few minutes into Episode 4 of Season One of D.A.

However, the food turned out fine. India came in a few minutes after everyone else left, and carried away some choice leftovers. We had roast beef with brown gravy, cheesy mashed potatoes, grilled veggie skewers (squash, red bell pepper, mushrooms and Roma tomatoes), purple-hull peas, and Susan brought steamed cabbage which I chowed down on quite a lot. I managed to run get a tray of delicious rolls in time to heat for dinner, and Susan brought a purely fabulous almond torte which she had whipped together at home. If I ate like that every day, I'd soon be fatter than Old Lucy.

I did eat pretty much like that today: A roast beef and tomato sandwich on whole wheat for lunch, and I'm steaming the veggies that didn't get skewered for my dinner.