I think perhaps yesterday just wasn't a day to write. Then again, yesterday was just an odd day in general—eight hours' worth of busywork at my company with no real pressing things to get done. I've been trying to work on a logging script so that I can better analyze the hits I'm getting on domesticat, but the script kept bombing out on me. By the time I fled my cube and drove home, I was annoyed, aggravated, and had a pounding headache.Luckily, the spousal unit was preparing dinner. That gave me a chance to take an aspirin, grab the nearest willing cat (last night's volunteer for Onerous Petting Duty was Tenzing—brutal life, isn't it?) and flop on the couch for a while until I was back to my normal goofy, chipper self. The cat was gratified by the petting (there was much shameless purring and tail-thumping), I was gratified by the dinner and the release from my headache, and thus I got a load of laundry done instead of just sitting on my ass all evening.

Now I'm just nagged by the fact that I forgot to set some meat out to thaw before I left for work this morning. I'm trying to figure out what, exactly, we'll be having for dinner tonight. I can't quite picture what I've got in the fridge and freezer, so I suppose it's pointless to be thinking about all this. Perhaps we'll go out to eat—we haven't done that in a while, and I'd like to get a few more restaurant reviews done.

Oh—take a look at this. When I went to New Orleans recently, Andy and I had reservations at a restaurant called Bayona, run by a chef named Susan Spicer. I adored the food I had there—that was quite possibly the best duck I've ever had in my life. For my soup course, I had the cream of garlic soup. Read over the recipe, and understand that I adore garlic. I have got to make this for friends. If Brad visits, he'd appreciate this dish…

It occurred to me last night that I've got to get the guest bathroom ready for visitors, as we've got a set of visitors coming in just a few weeks. It's my parents; my mother has seen the house, but my father hasn't. As I'm a bit of the low-maintenance type, I don't keep a lot of froofy stuff in the bathroom. But I can see that some people would like having things like cotton balls, Q-tips, toothpaste, and things like that in the bathroom waiting on them. I'm taking suggestions—you can email them to me at domesticat @ domesticat . net.

Sorry for the lack of depth in today's commentary. I'm just not in the mood today. Check back tomorrow.