Apparently, I am no longer dating the woman that I intended to marry, as of 10:50am this morning (our third anniversary, by the way). Learned via text after she disappeared for 24 hours. And couldn't so much as let me know she was ok. Then, today, after two hours, I got sent home from work. I know it was due to the store spending too many labor hours, but I have to think that it was also due to the fact that I was a bit of a wreck. So, I got home and organized.
And made grits. Yummy, yummy grits. There's not much to tell, I made grits, but, instead of water, I us
ed milk and then I put some cheese and honey in it to liven it up a bit. It's a little too salty, from the Gruyere, though. Ah well. Also, I have no qualm showing you that I'm drinking cheap beer at 2pm after getting sent home from work, I feel like I earned it. So... yeah. It's kind of strange, I've really co-opted the "good old boy" life style when I moved south. It's like, I'm just far enough south that I can be as country as I wanna be and play a telecaster, but I'm close enough to Chicago that the DIY ethos of the punk movement still haven't vacated my body. But, yeah, I love southern food and can't wait to get back to the Carolinas. In the meantime, au revoir.
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