And speaking of chilly nights, one of the stores has big bags of russet potatoes cheap this week, and on Sunday I'll be picking up a bag for baking. Unfortunately none of the stores has sour cream on sale, so I'll be paying full price for that, partly offsetting the potato bargain. I suppose I could make do with butter only, but a baked potato without sour cream seems very sad to me. That little mound of cool whiteness atop it turns the potato from sensible, everyday food into a festive luxury.
And speaking of festive luxuries, while rooting about in the cupboard this evening I came across a package of Pepperidge Farm cookies I'd forgotten I had. They are the kind with chocolate chips and pecans, and will make a nice desert tonight— at least those I haven't used to spoil my dinner will. But since dinner is going to be a microwaved burrito, the spoiling isn't all that great, although it does mean I won't be hungry until eleven o'clock or so. No problem. It's still a bit too warm in here, so I think I'll go out and sit in the moonlight for a while as the house cools a bit more.