obsessive compulsive linking

I can’t really envision what the inside of our new flat might look like, yet. All I see is the balcony. Modest sized, just enough space for a couple of chairs, and a downsized kettle barbie. A recycled wine crate is inverted over the barbecue, transforming it into a side table. On its side, it doubles up as a guerrilla prep table.

And when the weather turns cool, we’ll be sitting outside as the sky darkens, swigging beer from the bottle as I get up to slap a couple of steaks on the grill, toasting buns over the glowing embers. It’s hard to be happier than when you’re manning a grill, flushed from the mixture of the crisp wintry breeze, alcohol flowing through your veins, heat from the coals, and laughing till your cheeks ache.

Something’s up. It’s been bugging me all day, but I can’t figure out what it is. I’m irritating the people around me with my reticence, and it’s adding fuel to the fire. I’m waiting for the explosion, ‘cos hopefully that will just get whatever I’m feeling out of me once and for all, but perhaps it would be best if I stayed at home and away from the world in general for a couple of days.

Also, I have a menu to plan. And all the variations I’ve come up with aren’t really cutting it. I wonder if a downside to having become fairly adept in the kitchen means that my standards have been raised to a level where it’s impossible to please myself anymore. I feel petulant and bratty, but nothing’s going right so what’s the difference anyway.

PS: The stew I just made is a bit too salty. Which is also getting on my nerves, but short of redoing it I don’t really know how to fix it. I’m hoping the addition of the pastry will dilute the saltiness sufficiently but it’s not looking optimistic. And you’re going to say it’s fine and not to bother which is why it’s coming out here in this general rant and not actually directed at you. I SHOULD HAVE REMEMBERED NOT TO CORRECT THE SEASONING TILL AFTER I ADDED THE CHEESE STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID RAH.