Yesterday I bought a crock pot.

I don’t quite know what to do with it yet, but this weekend I will be attempting some sort of beef stew. The one I picked out is all fancy with an apparently elegant and functional design. Also, it came with a mini crock pot for small dippie things. I am actually rather excited to break the crock pot in, but it will have to wait – I have an interview this afternoon, and then I’m being whisked away for a SEKRET CHRISTMAS DINNAR tonight by Ed. I do not know where we’re going, only that I am not to wear jeans or a tank top. That’s 75% of my wardrobe right there, so I’m probably just going to wear my fancy interviewin’ clothes that I will conveniently already have on.

I’m a little leery of tonight’s dinner. I’m not in charge of the planning, and that makes me nervous. More importantly, the last half dozen times we’ve eaten out it’s been utterly horrible. Regardless of the price range, both the food and the service went and made us all stabby with rage. The obvious solution is for us to just stay home forever and never go out to eat, but that would mean I do nothing but cook and clean up cat puke and then there’d be a lot of dishes I’d ALSO have to do, and let’s just say the “feelin’ stabby” would be a lot closer to home. I don’t know where we’re going tonight, but I hope our train of bad luck with outside food is about to be derailed – if I’m not allowed to wear jeans, it better damn well be worth the effort of a skirt.

I am amused and horrified at how excited I am about the crock pot. I better get a lot of toys for Christmas to make up for this shockingly adult purchase I just made.