I’m going to die of scurvy

I fully intended to come home directly from work, buy a bunch of good food, and make a healthy dinner for myself. However, Timmy invited me out for a beer (or four) after work with his cousin Tony. So I went. Consumed four Guinness.

By the time we left Pint on Punt , the fruit and veg shop was closed, and I had to go right home (I’d rather die of scurvy than pay for Coles and Safeway overpriced veggies. Of course, I’m buzzed and not thinking right). So I get home and look in the fridge. Nothing. Fark all, actually. Which is a bit strange, because I remember making a hell of a lot of mash the other night and not being able to finish it all. So, where is it?

“Hang on a minute,” I think to myself, “I remember wanting to eat that last night”. So I look in the microwave. Sure enough, there’s the plate of mash. I turn up the power to full and nuke it for 6 minutes. That ought to kill anything that’s been sitting in there for 24 hours.

I’m now remembering some carrots and tomatoes from my Vic Market experience yesterday with friendBe, so I think I’ll consume them too.