We had an errand to run this morning, which was good because it got Tim out of the house. He really has quite a case of cabin fever, I think, but he's trying not to mind. He really is doing a lot better now that he's sleeping.
This evening there was an unexpected knock on the door and it was our old buddy Ray. We brought him in and we blabbed on the couch awhile. He said, "Well, it is time for me to mosey back up on the hill." He also said that he was pretty mad at himself. He'd gotten a hankering for some cornbread last night, and that he whipped up a Jiffy mix. It must have been outdated because they didn't rise. He'd meant to pick up another box while he was out during the day, but he'd forgotten.
"Ray!" I said incredulously. "For pete's sake!"
He looked embarrassed at his absentmindness.
"No! Not that," I said. "Cornbread is easy enough to throw together." I went to the kitchen and started grabbing stuff from the cupboard. He followed me out, looking a little shocked. It took me 10 minutes to mix it all together and scrape it into a pie pan. I popped it into a 400 oven and said, "You'll have to wait for 25 minutes."
"Do you ever think how much money you'd save on groceries if you stopped feeding everyone?" he asked. He and Tim settled in to jawjack a bit longer. I used the time to put my kitchen back to rights and do the dishes that I had not done after our supper. Ray was watching hungrily when I tested the cornbread and then pulled the pan out of the oven. "That smells so good."
I covered it in foil and wrapped it in a towel to keep it hot for the trip home. I also popped some sausages in there and told him to cook a couple eggs to go with it.
He headed down the driveway with his piping hot cornbread like he was holding treasure.