When Trevor is away, I tend to eat crappy bachelorette dinners, like Popcorn. It just doesn't seem worth the effort to cook without an appreciative audience.
Also, moving is no fun without help. The PC house is in transit to a new house that seems smaller but at least has a bigger yard. Luckily for me, several of the most gung-ho volunteers have showed up to lift boxes into the refrigerated truck our landlord sent over, and to help shepherd our ferocious guard dog into the cruiser for the drive. Unfortunately, by the time we got out of the driveway, the ride had terrified the dog to the point she peed, so one of said volunteers walked her to the new house while another volunteer held her dinner bowl of cow bones the housekeeper had just finished boiling up.
Sadly for the new volunteers, all the (3) restaurants in town are closed on account of Ramadan. I would have invited them over, but 1. I didn't think of it in time, and 2. I'm too exhausted to cook anyway. Looks like a granola night.
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