Karma?

I don't know what posessed me to put some leftover cheese sauce that I made in January or February in the freezer for later when it really wasn't all that good in the first place. All it means is that I cooked some broccoli and added the cheese sauce to it and it just didn't taste all that good. It didn't taste all that good in the first place; I can remember that. So why did I save it? God knows.

It's missing a rather crucial ingredient, that being Keens Dry Mustard. Just doesn't taste like cheese without it. Don't ask me why. I don't understand that either.

I have had an altogether unsatisfying meal.

So, Tuesday as I was coming home, I saw a fire across the inlet. Kathy tells me that at roughly the same time her restaurant got an order for 50 burgers to go, some with cheese, no tip. no tip, (This last part was emphasized, though, I told her that she should consider that a donation to the fire department and she conceeded.)

My mom picked up a newspaper a couple days later and that was how we discovered that the house that had burned down belonged to noneother than someone we know quite well. She's the sort of person who you give an inch and she takes a mile.

The sort of person who fits into the category of working-class Brit who moves to the colonies and expects you to worship him/her because they're from the mother country and that makes them superior to you even though their accent pins them as dirt poor and uneducated.

The sort of person who is only really here because she's too lazy to really make it in her own country and we have a lot of quality free healthcare and education for her kids to exploit.

Not that I'd wish for anyone's house to burn down or anything...