The Comforts of Home
When I'm home, that's where I work--from home. The dining room is my office, the kitchen my cafeteria. There are times when I get a touch of cabin fever and I go to the library to write, but for the most part I like working from my apartment. It's a cozy little place that suits me.
One thing I enjoy most about working from home (aside from staggering around all day without taking a shower) is that I can take a break from work to catch up on whatever domestic chores need done. I can throw on a load of laundry, get back to the computer, and feel doubly productive. And after I work up a sweat writing posts and folding towels, I like to reward myself by making myself something special for breakfast.
Once a week or so I'll make myself a cheese omelet, one of the great comfort foods of my childhood. Actually, it still is--if I go to my parents' house to help with something or just for a visit my Mom will often say, "I'll make you a cheese omelet." So once I got set up in the flat I bought myself a non-stick pan and worked on my technique. I don't make 'em as good as she does, heavens knows, but they ain't too bad.
So here I am in Vegas, thousands of miles from home, working long hours under borderline-insane conditions. I'm actually enjoying the frantic pace (when it's not too
frantic) and so far I've been able to keep an even keel and not get too crispy around the edges. The fact the AC was blasting forth when we got home last night helped.
But I thought it might be a good idea to remind myself of the sedate domestic bliss I enjoy in Pittsburgh by re-creating them here in the condo. With Dan out running errands I sorted my laundry and decided to wash some clothes. Turns out that the washing machine is so huge that, if you removed the agitator, you could use it for a hot tub. Or if you're into, uh, stuff, you could just go ahead and leave the agitator in. Totally up to you.
So I was able to load it up and get that going while I made some breakfast. Craig bought 18 eggs during our first provision run and I thought today was the day to break them in (get it! break them in...Sweet Jesus.). First of all I had to find out if the kitchen had the equipment required to manufacture an omelet. What I found was, I hoped, adequate:
I didn't have my beloved non-stick pan, nor the silicone spatula that's never let me down in the past. So I got to cracking eggs and stirring them in the purple-glass bowls we have here (the beaten eggs didn't provide an appetizing color juxtaposition) and heated the pan. It looked kinda
non-stick...so I tossed in some butter to be sure and introduced the eggs.
I hadn't cooked on a gas stove for about a year and I don't think the pan was quite hot enough. And then the eggs started sticking. Not too bad, I was careful to sweep and stir and not let them cook too fast, but things didn't turn out too well. I added the cheese, did some folding and flipping, and what I ended up with wasn't so much a light, fluffy omelet but a thick egg loaf:
Tasted OK, though. And the laundry is a-tumbling away downstairs, so all is right with the world. Because I'm scheduled late tonight I'll be working into the wee hours, so this little bit or normalcy should help me stay grounded during what is shaping up as a brain-warping seven weeks. I got to work yesterday...and Pardon the Interruption
was showing on the plasma screens ringing the Amazon Room. I used to get home
from work just as PTI was coming on. I think I'll be trying out my omelet-making skills a few more times while I'm in Vegas.