Tonight’s post will either be short or take a very long time to type, for the same reason that tonight’s “picture” is three ink scribbles of a bearded dragon with a mustache.
The short version is that I very slightly injured my hand and am in a self-pitying, hunt-and-pecking sort of mood.
The long version is that I have never been adept at jar-opening, and today I met one that defeated me entirely. Normally my response to this would be to verbally abuse the jar and find something else to eat. But today I had specifically made a pizza for the sake of using some of the fancy pickled Beaver Dam peppers I’d purchased earlier, and those peppers resided in the aforementioned jar.
I tried one of those jar grips, I tried hot water, I tried assorted slapping and thwacking, I tried using a butterknife, and finally I just got fed up and stabbed the thing a few times with a pair of scissors to break the seal. (Seriously, don’t get between me and my pizza, okay?) Even with the seal broken, it would. not. budge. Not for want of trying, though, and since my hands were covered in rapidly-crispifying pizza dough I didn’t realize for a time that I skinned my hands up in several places on the unnecessarily-sharp jar edge.
This made the actual construction of the pizza, as well as removing it from the oven and slicing it up, a less-than-lovely endeavor. I made a valiant effort to scrub pizza dough off the mixing bowl and utensils, but given the discomfort involved in removing the pizza dough from my *hands*, dishes are going to be a job for tomorrow.
Anyhow, I decided I might as well try a variety of mustaches when giving Mr. Bearded Dragon the full facial-hair experience. I don’t really know what beardies’ legs and feet look like from different angles, and I’m feeling too mopey to do proper research, so they run between human and turtle limbs — Teenage Mutant Ninja Dragons, maybe? Still not as unsettling as Rango. Argh, the spacebar is going to be the death or at least the displeasure of me, so I’ll be taking leave of you now.