Day sixteen - Monday 16th Feb

I was fed up today. Seriously, Mondays are rubbish. You've got another five days of work ahead of you plus all the stuff you should have done over the weekend but were too lazy to finish off. Which only makes you feel guilty, disappointed in yourself and generally impotent. You know what makes it worse though? Watching John Torode driving through Argentina generally living your childhood dream of being a cowboy and eating absurdly unhealthy amounts of beef on open fires. You might as well kill me now because clearly, life will never get any better than this surplus of oxygen wasting, time consuming and generally annoying examples of people whom you selfishly wish would suspiciously disappear so you could take their place like some kind of hellish Rob shaped Cuckoo.

Or is that just me? 

Mrs P and I ran a few cross lines today so the whole meal plan basically went out of the window. Breakfast was 'flexible', or in other words half a piece of toast on the run and lunch just didn't happen. For The Child, meals were via the altar of the fryer from one of those indoor play places. True it isn't in line with the experiment but these things happen - if anyone wants to argue, then they can invent a time machine and replay today before minding their own damn business.

To mitigate and speed up some nutritional intake tonight, I made some quick and dirty wraps with as many left overs as possible. Peppers, pork, spinach, guacamole and onion all went in with salt, cumin, paprika and a couple of spoonfuls of tomato soup (made yesterday) just to loosen things up a bit. This is the reason I love wraps, the whole thing took less that 20 mins to put together and I even managed to get me a whole, fresh chilli in there to bring a smile and some happiness to the evening. We had wraps left from our pack last week so they got filled and consumed in record time. Veg, both cooked and fresh filled up along side spicy pork bites all covered with a spritz of lime, yeah - that's better.  All is well with the world and we live to fight another day.

Postscript: Mrs P hasn't lasted more than an hour after dinner. She is currently *EDIT* looking gorgeous *EDIT* on the sofa with only a little bit of dribble on the cushion. Ah, bless.