Earlier today I made the dog's food (holistic kibble, raw carrots, pasta, home made chicken stock) and set it aside to cool. I then grabbed the leftover "meat" loaf I made the other day for dinner and mixed up a goulash for the kids and hubby for dinner. While it simmered, I sat down at the computer to goof off.
For one reason or another I chose to get up from my chair and go into the kitchen to check the dinner. A FUCKING MOUSE was on my STOVE!!!!!!
I saw a flash of furry mouse butt and tail go down into the burner hole as I walked through the kitchen door. I think I jumped a foot with my mouth hanging open in disbelief.
What the hell? I have three freaking' cats for cripes sake?!?!?! I have four dogs in the house at the moment, and one of them is the best damn nutria killer this side of the Mississippi. (Please tell me I am not the only one who spells that in their head just like in grade school, when they type it. MISS...ISS...IPPI.)
So I decided that my fat cats are no longer getting fed cat food until I see them fighting over at least one dead mouse carcass. They are going to drive me nuts with their insistent meowing, but I don't care.
I have made it easier for them to kill by opening the bottom drawer on the oven for them and raising the top of the stove for easy access. All they need to do is do the job God gave them. I never realized just how much I was hampering their natural talents until now. Get to it kittys!
I kinda just want to turn the broiler on after I bait the oven with goodies...but it also makes me kinda gag too. Dilemma.
Every time my husband goes to the store for milk or "just one thing", he comes home with two bags of crap.
A while back I got him into coupon clipping, and bargain shopping. I stockpile certain things that go on sale, like toothbrushes, toothpaste, TP; you know stuff you use everyday. He has taken it to a whole new level.
The other day I decided to go through my small food cupboard in the kitchen. Most of the dry goods that we have are in my larger pantry in the back of the house. When the husband comes home from the store he shoves everything in that tiny cupboard because he is too lazy to walk the twenty feet to the pantry.
And when I say "store", I mean the Grocery Outlet Store. Otherwise known in certain circles as The Rainbow Food Store (They have a giant rainbow on their sign for some reason, not sure why. As far as I know it's not an "Only Gay"store.), a.k.a. The Dented Can Store (I believe this term was adopted from those who had once lived in the Midwest.), and the latest name I have heard for it: the Food Reject Store. It's a regular grocery store, they just get their inventory at rock bottom prices from other stores that need to move their inventory quickly and then the savings are passed on to us. Pretty cool most of the time. Although I will advise against buying hair color there. Just trust me on this. Moving along....
In this tiny cupboard in my kitchen I found three jars of peanut butter, 17 yes 17 packages of Mac & cheese, 10 things of Raman, and among other things four bottles of spicy wing sauce. I don't remember if I have ever cooked wings of any kind in this house in the ten years we have lived here. Apparently they were 2/$1.
But the really odd thing is that my husband seems to have a certain fascination with little cans of tomato paste. Seriously. I think I counted 11 cans. Just weird.
So he is as of yesterday grounded from the Dented Can Store. He can only go when I am with him. I am just not up to finding a tomato paste rehab center for him, so I am trying to ween him off.
Pray for us.
