A long day. A short post.
After work we didn't feel like coming home and cooking a meal. Patricia suggested Swiss Chalet, and I nearly drove into the ditch in my excitement. There is something about the food there that entices me to the point where I become less of a boy, less of a man, and more of a ravenous carnivore bent on eating anything that used to have a face. Don't judge me.
Actually, Mom and I had been at the Swiss Chalet on May 4th. I'd noticed the new menu options and selected the butter chicken bowl. I ate every scrap of victuals placed in front of me, and looked around the bowl to see if an errant piece of rice or a shoot of cauliflower had tried to get away from me. No such luck.
I mentioned the butter chicken to Patricia this evening. We both decided to have it. I think the version of the dish was slightly better in New Minas, although it may come down to "you never forget your first." A premature feeling of nostalgia, perhaps.
At any rate, Patricia very much enjoyed her dinner, and I did, mine. I paid up and we left and came home. The cats probably smelled the chicken on our breaths and demanded their own dinner. I delegated that task to Patricia and went downstairs for a moment to see if the internet connection was still working. It's been pretty spotty lately.
It is now 9:45. I will call my doctor in the morning to make an appointment to discuss the blood test results that will have reached him by Thursday. I should find out then whether I have a spastic colon, an extreme case of shiftlessness, or the dreaded SCS (Sivilcervant Syndrome.) I will tell you all about it, of course. I like to share.
If you want to start an office pool at your place of work and bet on what is wrong with me, please go ahead. Anything I can do to help morale. Just throw some of the love my way. Patricia doesn't know about my 3 ex-wives.
You guys have a good evening. Newbie and Patricia and Cindy and I send our best.