Has It Come To This?

Apparently, it has.



Here's a little note to myself I wrote on a stickie and afixed to the hood over the stove. If'n you can't see it, it reads, "Drain chicken stock!"

Remember that warm spell we had several weeks ago? Well during cold weather months, I use the front porch as a walk-in cooler. But, out of sight, out of mind. And a beautiful batch of chicken stock was the victim of the unseasonably balmy temperatures back in February. I made another batch of chicken stock from the bird that I roasted for Sunday dinner, and last night before I went to bed, didn't feel like dealing with it then, so I left it out on the porch. But, not wanting another stinky rotten mess to deal with, I wrote myself a note.

Uh oh.

Am I going to become one of Those People? A note leaving person? Papering all available flat surfaces of my house with "Buy dog food!" and "Your vehicle registration expires on March 31st!" and "Pick up new pajamas for Dad!"?

That way madness lies. Clearly.

But, as I type this, I'm straining my chicken stock. Good thing, too, since the temperature is supposed to approach seventy degrees today.

Maybe I'll just do notes for really important things.

Like chicken stock.