I remember the word penultimate as a term in music theory but don’t ask me about that. I could dredge up the specifics if I tried but I won’t for now. Penultimate in my current context is the night before the night before and that’s tonight and I am still trying to imagine my life without the ugly Landfill Chitchen that I have lived in for so long.

I don’t really have anything much to say tonight. I cooked in the Landfill Chitchen tonight and I guess I will cook in it tomorrow night and then, Thursday, it’ll be gutted. I am processing all of that. Do I have buyer’s remorse? Oh, probably not. I am gonna be here when they gut the place and I will be happy. But I will always remember The Chitchen the way it was when we moved in and how it has been ever since then and all the times I have cooked here.

P.S. The walking the last couple of days has been loverly! There is dry pavement almost everywhere and I only struggle through the back of the schoolyard, where there is mud and ice and snow and whatever. I may be able to stash my hiking pole before long. We’ll see.

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