For breakfast I ate supper leftovers. No pic (you don't want to see the crud I ate.) I know, I know, I should have just tossed them but there wasn't much left and I hate to waste food.
Munchkin and I spent the morning scrubbing the house. Fat Cat had become increasingly incontinent and though I'd cleaned after ever mess it felt like the house needed a good ceiling-to-floor scouring. And, while I hate housework, there was something therapeutic about scrubbing floors and moving furniture around. I tossed out a few rugs that had been stained, debated on completely changing the furniture layout of the living room, and had a good cry.
I didn't eat lunch, just sipped on mugs of broth from yesterday's soup all afternoon.
I ended up drinking most of the broth and had to add another container of goose stock to make it soup again.
While Munchkin took a nap I made the Ol Man a new doggy bed, then scrubbed some more. I think the old guy likes it (he's under strict orders not to get so much as a sniffle for a couple years):
Since I was in such a cleaning mood I cleaned the fridge. Supper was a mess of all the leftovers I found: grilled chicken and roast beef, green bean salad with artichokes and olives, green salad, sliced strawberries, mashed yams, and corn on the cob. Here's my plate:
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