Safeway recently had a wonderful sale on meat. One that we were too busy to take advantage of (holding auditions pretty much every night last week), but Alan & Company made worthwhile. We had two lovely steak dinners, but otherwise, have been eating out. A lot. Auditions every night will do that..
not to mention my FILTHY kitchen.
As you've probably already read my last post about the dish situation, I won't recap. (Though I will add that the floor wasn't ever mopped and the dishes that couldn't fit or can't go in the dishwasher sat in the sink for ANOTHER two days...)
Then, & Company wanted another steak. He grabbed the first pan within reach. My pizza pan. Have you ever seen a pizza pan? They're great. Nicely sized, round, nonstick. Full of holes so the crust can bake evenly.
Full of holes.
Have you ever cooked a steak? Or seen the obscene amount of juices that cook OUT of a steak?
FULL. OF. HOLES!!!!!!!
I wonder if, at this point in my story, you're cringing as much as I did when I saw the sticky, caramelized, BURNT disaster that was now my oven. But I'm a nice person. How does a nice person say "WTF WERE YOU THINKING YOU IDIOT! YOU'D BETTER CLEAN THAT %&$* UP RIGHT NOW BEFORE I LOSE MY MIND!!!!" without saying exactly that...and going batshitcrazy? I mean, for almost two weeks, I'd been too tired, too busy to cook in my own kitchen, all the while having to clean up messes in the kitchen I'm not cooking in, and now THIS?
So yesterday, after a lovely Easter brunch, I spent a few hours cleaning the oven. And I insisted later that & Company mop the floor - which, thankfully, it appeared that he had done last night.
I'm sorry if this sounds fragmented - I had to put this post on hold yesterday and have lost both my train of thought and my frustrations...
Anyway, I received the worst news on Friday afternoon. My dog Taylor has cancer. She'll be with us for a few more weeks, at best. Taylor was my service dog through Canine Companions for Independence. She was by my side for the majority of the last 10 years - LITERALLY, by my side. That was her job. I was heartbroken when I let my mom take her back to Michigan when we moved here, but I knew that it was best for her, at her age, to "retire" with a large yard and a pond she loves to swim in.
So I've been a weepy mess since Friday night. Coupled with PMS and irritations from our houseguests (shall I start the countdown until the end of the month now?), it has not been a happy weekend. Its been a rotten year for pets. First Buttons is near-death (and she's doing better, I should add, but she's still twenty..). Matt's cat Chester is a few years younger than Buttons, and is going through the same renal failure issues, but will probably go before Buttons does, and now Taylor. My heart hurts, and all I want to do is fly home to see her, but I know that I just can't handle that.
I'll post a few pictures of Taylor later.