Tomorrow I shop, and there is a sale on big bags of cat food so I can keep feeding the feral cats (and raccoons and skunks and blue jays, who all steal what they can of it.) I'm not sure what I'll buy to feed myself next week. It would be much easier if I could eat that cat food too, and more economical as well— though not much. The cat food is about as expensive as pasta these days, and would probably need as much sauce. I'll probably end up buying more cans of beans, as they are on sale too.
I fell asleep sooner than I expected last night, and didn't get around to lowering the thermostat. It was too warm for comfortable sleep, not to mention the gas that was wasted. If I'm going to be nodding off without warning, I need some sort of brain implant that will send out a signal to lower the thermostat when I fall asleep. Although such a device and the surgery to implant it would probably cost more than a lifetime worth of the gas it would save, at least I wouldn't be waking up with my clothes soggy and my sinuses all dried out all winter long. Get to work on that right away, Google (I know you're monitoring everything on the Internets.)
There's just enough gingerbread left for tonight. Last night I recalled too late that, though I'm out of whipped cream, I still have ice cream. Gingerbread and vanilla ice cream with a bit of orange marmalade on top should make a dandy desert. That also means one last link to Ginger Baker and Cream.
And because ice cream is frozen, Ginger Rogers singing a Dorothy Field lyric to Fred Astaire in the snow.