Doing okay, listening to music, listening to the rain, weaving in and out of the drug-induced post-surgical comfort. Surprised by how many times I've wanted to hop up to do something - and realized that I can't.
That's an interesting predicament.
This requires some investigation. Since I have a little time on my hands, let me do just that.
A few moments later:
/ˈsæləd/ Show Spelled[sal-uhd]
a usually cold dish consisting of vegetables, as lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers, covered with a dressing and sometimes containing seafood, meat, or eggs.
any of various dishes consisting of foods, as meat, seafood, eggs, pasta, or fruit, prepared singly or combined, usually cut up, mixed with a dressing, and served cold: chicken salad; potato salad.
Well, then. There it is. (Does anybody else get that? I don't know a lot of references from movies, but I watched Amadeus about forty times. That was a great line. There it is.) No Cool Whip. Unless Cool Whip is a "dressing".
This proves my point. Gail, I love this stuff. I could eat an entire bucket. But I think we gotta come up with a different name.
As part of my investigation, I asked Tony what he thought about this situation. Having just arrived home from putting a tarp on the top of his house down the road (in the rain) (in the dark), he seems rather disinterested in my opinion that this salad mislabeling is of great importance.
Oh, well. So it goes.
I'm not allowed to make any important decisions for 24 hours. I'm not allowed to shower for 48 hours.
I wonder if, at 24 hours, I could decide to shower?
This post brought to you by Percocet, my new bff. And Pistachio Candysalad.