Pass The Cheese, Please

Babybel Light is a fave, in case you’re wondering.  Cheese and dairy aren’t exactly on the ‘healthier choices’ list right now, but these low-fat delights are nice for the occasional craving.  It doesn’t take much cheese to satisfy me, unless we’re talking about casseroles.

Speaking of casseroles, I’m just now getting around to writing about some of my dreams last night. 

A lot of my dreams weren’t exactly pleasant.  I was in a hospital, undergoing a million tests to make sure my original test was indeed negative.  And then when I was done, I couldn’t find my damn clothes, and I started wandering around.  Except I got lost, and wound up in the maternity ward, which was right next door to the infectious disease ward, which made no fucking sense!

When I finally found my clothes, I heard my grandmother calling for help, which was weird because I didn’t know she was in the hospital.  And then so was my mom, and I started to freak out!  But it turns out my mom was visiting my grandmother, who had double pneumonia, and she was waiting to be discharged, as was I.

When we all got home, everyone and their mother was at my parents’ house.  Can I just say these dreams about being at my parents’ house are getting fucking old?  It’s adding to my depression.  But anyways, it was Christmas time, god dammit, and we were preparing mega meals for the company we were expecting.

Dishes needed to be washed, which I was in charge of, and because there was no dishwasher in the house, I wound up finishing up at 3 in the morning, when my dad wakes up.  Well, he used to wake up that early sometimes irl, whenever he went to the flea market on Sundays, or when his sleep schedule was so backwards, it fucked up his internal clock.

Now that he’s gone, I’m almost getting the same way, except I stay up all night, and sleep until 12 or 1 pm.  And then I don’t eat until dinner.

Anyways, my sister-in-law, mom, and grandma, oh and an aunt from New Jersey, were all crammed into my parents’ tiny af kitchen cooking and slaving away.  There was no longer room for me to be washing dishes while they worked, so I was sent to organize the bedrooms, making the beds and putting laundry away.

When I got to my room, I noticed the tv was off.  I needed the tv to be on in order to get anything accomplished.  Then my dad came in, and we started arguing about what to watch.  He got angry when I found a second remote and kept switching the channel.  But then I messed up the satellite, and nothing would work.  So I was sent upstairs to start wrapping Christmas gifts.

But the Christmas gifts were nowhere to be found, so I was put to work cleaning the spare bedrooms.  Lucky me I found a fan, and decided to lie down on my bed, in my room, and promptly fell asleep, until I started choking because my throat got too dry from the fan blowing in my face, which was the case IRL, and I had to sit up to avoid puking from coughing so hard.

Meanwhile, we’re about to have Hamburger Helper for dinner – IRL – and I sit here thinking about how long it was been since we’ve eaten it, and feeling disappointed over how Betty Crocker has cheapened the boxed miracle meal.

I need to find a good homemade recipe for sure.

OH, I almost forgot, the cheese reference in my title refers to 2 things:

1. The amount of cheese Hamburger Helper used to have
2. The cheesy horror film I just watched on Netflix.

Netflix has some great content, but the same old shit it getting … well, old.  After watching some really disturbing shit recently, movies like The Disappointments Room can be a disappointment.  Pun intended.

Dinner time.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.