Me:You’re just bitter because you’re not into necrophilia.
Hen:Oh my god you’re so weird. I’m pretty happy that I’m not a necrophile, actually. Ugh. SUBJECT CHANGE PLEASE.
Me:Uh…I’m making macaroni and cheese and I’m genuinely unsure if this milk is going to kill me or not?
I gave it an experimental sniff and couldn’t decide if it smelled off or not. I’d just bought it on Sunday, so it really should be fine, but I didn’t trust milk. It had a habit of going chunky with no warning.
Hen:Dude, if you’re not sure if your dinner is going to kill you, maybe try a different dinner? See also previously mentioned “I prefer you alive”.
Me:Nah it’s fine.
I sniffed again and nodded. Yeah, it was ok enough to cook with.
Me:Almost certainly won’t die.
Hen:I have a sudden urge to invite you over for dinner, except I’m eating Stouffer’s lasagna out ofthe plastic container and I’m not 100% sure that’s any better. Pretty sure cow lips are involved in this stuff. Not to mention probably cancer-causing chemicals in the plastic.
Me:God, we have the sexiest conversations.
Hen:Sorry. [embarrassed emoji]
Me:Don’t apologize. This is totally taking my mind off my work stress, even if it would look weird from the outside.
I dumped the pasta into the boiling water and set the timer for seven minutes.
Me:I have seven minutes until I have to drain my pasta. Quick, tell me what you did today.
Hen:Ack, time pressure! Um, let’s see.
Hen:Curie woke me up at 5:30 by smacking me in the nose. My alarm wasn’t set to go off until 6:30, but I couldn’t get back to sleep after she settled on my chest and started purring. Pretty sure that was a defense mechanism to keep me from throwing her across the room in frustration.
Me:Smart kitty.
Hen:Devil kitty. Meanwhile, Solo decided to wash his ass on the end of the bed. Loudly. So yeah, I wasup. Coffee and breakfast, and then I took the cats to the workshop. Solo got to wear the leash I bought him, since I’m still not sure if he’s inclined to follow or wander. He hates it with a burning passion and I ended up carrying him most of the way between the buildings. It was either that or drag his limp body along the ground. But once we got into the workshop he settled in ok on a pillow and the cats watched me cut pieces for a new commission I’m just starting to assemble.
Me:And they really don’t, like, try to stick their tails in the saws or anything?
Hen:They’re adult cats, not toddler humans. They’re smart enough to keep away from the ouchie things. Which, I mean, judging by the number of scars I have from work mishaps, they’re smarter than me on that.
Me:But at least you get paid for it.
Hen:Honestly, I’d rather be a cat and sleep all day. Anyway, I started assembling that cabinet and that ate up a few hours, and then I had lunch and then worked on finishing the rocking chair you saw me working on last weekend. I’m up to the varnish step on that, so pretty much done after this and it can go to its new home.
Me:Aw, I’m gonna miss that chair. It was so nice when you let me sit in it.
Hen:Shh, don’t tell the buyer I let someone put their ass in it before I gave it to him.
Me:Wait, do people actually care about that?
Hen:Honestly, probably not, but enough people do get weird about stuff like that that I choose to just not mention it. Even though it would make total sense if they thought about it for me or someone else to test that it could hold human weight appropriately.
Hen:Oh, and then I found cat hair in the varnish, so I got to clean that up with tweezers. I’m gonna need glasses soon if I have to keep doing that.
Me:List it as a feature. “A genuine Rodriguez Creations piece will come with genuine cat hair accents. Accept no imitations!”
My timer went off and I tasted a piece of the pasta. Yep, done. I put my phone down and carried the pot to the sink to strain it, then stirred in the cheese sauce, butter, and yes, the iffy milk. I reached for a serving bowl, then paused and considered the pot. Did I really need to dirty another dish? On the other hand, was I really going to be That Guy In His 30s who eats out of the pot so he doesn’t have to do dishes? Sighing, I spooned the pasta intothe bowl. Look at me adulting like a boss. I set the bowl on the kitchen table, picked up my phone again, and sat down.
Me:[picture of bowl of macaroni and cheese]
