d-1

i started to make stuffing and realized that i had not bought any spring onions; that, and the decision to add sausage means that i have more or less defiled the mother's (the maternal grandmother's!) recipe. mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. still, it tastes more or less like what i'm used to, and the house now smells rather good. i also spent a long time stewing fruit and talking with the housemate about random effects models, a queer combination if i have to say so myself.

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the other housemate has gone back to ohio, which means i don't have to put up with football on the big tv all the time. yay!

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have invested in a meat thermometer. i suspect that this is somewhat akin to buying beauty cream -- same outcome, reassurance that you did "everything you could". the bird sits in my fridge, thawing, and gives me small panic attacks every time i go to get a glass of water. no dinner rolls.

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von messages me today to tell me, airily and nonchalantly, that he is hosting dinner for 23, and criticizes my menu choices for being "traditional" and "white". isn't that exactly the point? we flee from past oppression by being able to coolly and unironically do the very things that most typify those who have oppressed us. also, i really fraking like cranberry sauce, ok?