Left Over

Yesterday was almost exactly like a sick day for me except that (a) I was in perfect health and (b) I wouldn't've gone into work anyway. That is to say, I spent most of it in bed reading intermittently and did only minimal chores. And I had soup--but fortunately not nasty canned chicken noodle.

No, instead I took the last lion's head from the soup monshu had made along with its associated broth and cabbage and heated it up. I added some more broth, freshly-chopped napa and scallions, the last crumbs of pork tenderloin he'd simmered in master sauce, and a healthy amount of the sesame noodles he'd brought over for lunch. Voilà! Tasty pork sesame noodle soup. (My previous trick was making rice pudding using only milk and...rice pudding: I scalded the last of the milk, added chunks of the steamed eight precious sticky rice pudding monshu had made, and stirred until it was uniform in temperature and consistency.)

I could get used to this kind of cookery. Alas, I probably only have another day of it. There should be enough roast duck left to make a stir fry of tonight with the rest of the cabbage and noodles. After that, there's nothing but the leftover arhat's delight, which would probably not be a bad thing to take into work. Oh, and the tea eggs. Tea egg salad, anyone?

I was hoping that the rice pudding would make me sleepy so I'd nap, but I forgot to turn off my phone and got awakened just as I had drifted off. This left me too drowsy to join niemandsrose at the movies or to read anything more challenging than Cormac McCarthy. After filling and emptying the dish drainer three times, I was only about halfway through the dishes and so decided to call it a day and go over to monshu's for...more leftovers!

At least we finally watched Donnie Darko; even if monshu didn't particularly understand it, he enjoyed watching it.

(no subject)

Tá An béal bocht sroichte cheana agam! Ní raibh súil liom gur chomh luath a thiocfadh sí dhom. Is cosúil nach raibh an díoltóir ina bhréagadóir nuair adúirt sé go raibh sí istigh aige. Is trua go rabhas róthuirseach Dé Domhnaigh agus ní raibh in ann ach beagáinín di a léamh. Níl cuimhne agam ar an leabhar a léas roimpi a bhain gáire mar seo asam.