Chicken without Soup

Having a cold sucks.

After working from home, the cold had seemed to get better. Then I had a colossal lack of judgement and decided to go trick or treating in the cold rain with The Toddler. The next morning I woke up with a cough. The day after that I woke up with a cough and blocked sinuses. I felt like I had been run over by a truck. I elected to take a sick day.

Solid Gold

I did not have the energy to make soup. I went scavenging in the fridge and found some leftover oven-fried chicken. It wasn't soup, but it was chicken, so that counted for something. I reheated it and ate it on the sofa while watching some daytime talk show where they explained how to use the "exciting fall fashions" to hide "problem areas".

Minty Mouse

I drank so much mint tea, it wasn't even funny. My sweat had turned minty fresh. Even my coffee tasted minty fresh. The KitKat I stole from The Toddler's Hallowe'en stash was lovely, however.

Days of Soup and Tea

I've been sick all week.  ALL WEEK.  All week I've been working from home, sipping soup and drinking tea.  I've drank so much Peppermint Amour tea that I never want to see the stuff again.  I actually eventually sullied my My Lian Dieter Braun tea cup with that crappy Immunizer Tea from David's Tea.  You know, the one that's supposed to be a citrusy, minty, zingy tea, but is actually closer to the pot-pourri I got as a free sample from Crabtree&Evelyn once in the 90s (it made my undies smell of nothing, incidentally).

All week, I had variations on red lentil soup.  I made my own rice and red lentil soup one day, and then I made wheat and red lentil soup from a package another.  I made enough to last me a few days.  Now I never want to see red lentil soup again.

My wireless mouse liked warming itself against my lentil soup.

On the upside, I finally made that croissant pudding.  Actually, I instructed Spousal Unit to make it as I was indisposed, lying on the sofa under a pile of used Kleenexes, the toddler gleefully making a mess around me.  

Spousal Unit did a crappy job of it.  He thought that the pudding was done when it was still molten.  It wasn't.  The pudding has to rise and look like a soufflé for it to be done.  So I put it back in the oven and waited, all the while sniffling and feeling like someone had taken a cheese grater to my throat.  It eventually rose and I went to bed.  The next day, I tasted some and found that Spousal Unit put in so much booze that I was able to taste it in my stuffy state. 

I had some with coffee (which I had in my cutesy cup because I couldn't be bothered to get a proper espresso cup). I spilled the coffee, though.  I assume it was because of the booze.

"Now look what you've done!"