09.02.01 - 9:49 p.m.

OK, I have to write about this because I am perversely proud of it and even though it makes me a little queasy to think about, I was composing a little narrative in my head about it as I sat down to my sad, lonely old-person dinner.

Tonight I cooked chicken for dinner. Oh yes, I did, with bones and blood and all those wonderful nasty things that chickens are made of and which I don't like to be reminded of and usually make me run screaming for the safety of my room and Goldfish crackers.

But at the beginning of the summer, Grace had conned me into splitting this big package of chicken, well, parts is what they were, with her at the grocery store. I consented on the grounds that she remove all the skin and puckery fat and whatnot from it before storing it safely in the freezer for me. This she actually did - wow, what some people will do to save a buck.

And there in the freezer the chicken sat, until tonight, when I courageously pulled it out, defrosted it and watched it suspiciously sitting in its watery pool of blood until I could thoroughly rinse it and stick it in a pan.

Then I didn't know what to do next, but Grace apparently used to stick it in the oven with some spices, and that seemed good enough. After a while, it started bubbling and filled the kitchen with an old-timey country home smell, at which point I had to start burning the good candle again because it was a little too much for me.

It looked like a real meal on my plate with the green beans (side note: my wonderful sister brings me the biggest motherfucking can of green beans I've ever seen. 28 oz of pure french-cut Del Monte goodness. How much better can you get?) and I did manage to pick through one breast and one drumstick, gingerly and ineffectively, but no matter. I cooked and ate the nasty bag o' chicken!

Now I have one more drumstick, one more breast and two pieces that I think are thighs (what other part could they be?) in the refrigerator that I may or may not attempt to eat tomorrow. Even if I don't, it's no big deal, because as Dan so nicely and rationally pointed out, I was going to throw them away anyway.

But I must admit, the best part of the meal was the Cheerios I had for dessert.