Home Alone

It has been very quiet at Cookie Bite HQ this week since the spouse went away to London for a few days. It has been very tough making my own coffee in the morning, and even tougher re-acquainting myself with the cooker, since I am married to that rare species: a Domestic God who likes cooking. In his absence, my lone evening meals have been constructed not from a nutritional point of view, but on the basis of what combination of week-old leftovers will lead to the least washing up, when cooked in the least amount of time.

Monday night’s poached eggs on toast required a slight bit of pre-preparation in the form of testing the slightly past their sell-by date eggs in a bowl of water, and carefully trimming the two least mouldy slices of bread, but the extra effort was worthwhile.

Tuesday night was Burns Night and, unable to find a freak leftover haggis in the fridge, I toyed with having mashed potato and neeps on their own. After earnestly carving the selected potato to the size of a chickpea trying to find a non-green bit, I plumped for macaroni cheese instead. It was made with the 62g of broken macaroni left in the bottom of the bag, and a skilfully reconditioned heel of sweaty cheddar.

Last night found me tucking into a microwaved baked potato garnished with a delicious coleslaw made from a slightly limp carrot and the last scrapings of mayonnaise from the bottom of an empty jar, while I watched ‘Will My Crash Diet Kill Me’ on Channel 5.

Although I shall be delighted to be reunited with the spouse tonight, there has been one unexpected benefit to my sole occupancy of the house. The toilet seat is always down.

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