In an attempt to make my case of the Mondays go away, I am transforming into a work blogger. I see this as the only feasible action because the two options currently include:
a) work blogging
b) laying on the ground with a pillow on my face
The latter may be viewed as unprofessional. Seeing as I'm donning jeans today, for no apparent reason, other than my khaki's had a permanent pocket wad situation, professionalism has kind of already gone out the window. I think I'm going with choice a) to prove a point. The point being that I am a normal, rational person.
Let's review my encounter with the roast at HEB yesterday. It was early on in my 4th Valentine's Day as a married woman as I set out to make some important food purchases. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, right? I decided to go classic: roast, potatoes, carrots, gravy and frozen Texas toast with butter, garlic and cheese, which tastes close to heaven, and brings people close to actual heaven with the ridiculous caloric count per slice, but that's neither here nor there.
I arrive at the meat section, and go straight to the sign which states: roast. I look around. There are ABOUT 12 different kinds, bone in, rump, arm, sans bone.....it's a raw meat fest. I pick one, after 15 minutes of analyzing, and am relieved to leave. And realize I got a pork roast. I had to go back. To the other section, also titled: roast. Note to manager: I need clear instructions, which include roast type. I thought raw pork was offensive. No. It is a walk in the park as compared to raw beef. I'll spare you the details. Let it be known that I walked away with a great roast in my hand, which was also covered in blood from a faulty meat package.
It's a good thing I have spunk and persevered. The roast turned out to be delicious.
Until next time!
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