Cucumber sandwiches. There are only so many you can eat before you start to feel distinctly green on the inside, and I don’t mean a happy grass-green or an opulent emerald-green, I mean green like septic-slime green, or green like mushy vegetation in a swamp kind of green. An ill green.
It’s not my fault I ate two. I made a whole pile of them in preparation for a visit from my old Arabic teacher, which I assumed would be in a few hours. I got the hours wrong, he’s not a few hours away, he’s thirty-six hours away and now I have all these cucumber sandwiches that need eating.
Well, there are two less anyway. Momma ate one. Oleo ate one too. I don’t know if Z-3 eats them, but I’m pretty sure I can sneak one onto my father’s plate for tea. He’ll eat anything if it’s put next to a cup of tea…
Alors. Not a good day for posting, I cleaned the house and populated the fridge with cucumber sandiwiches for no dang reason. I also feel green. *sigh*
