Dinner was a very, very bland affair.
Probably because I made it myself... clumsily... cluelessly... in a poor attempt to replicate Ash's cooking.
I got cocky, underestimated the skill requirement, and so for my arrogance - what was supposed to be a delicious batch of fried chicken became more like a pile of charcoal I randomly scooped up from when Santa left it beneath a chimney or something.
Still served it anyway, being raised in an upbringing that was taught not to waste, I didn't have the heart to chuck it all in a bit. But strangely enough... nobody seemed to have much of an appetite tonight, leaving me alone to chew and swallow on the bitter taste of my every mistake.
maybe I should have Amanda come over and teach a few tricks sometime... at any rate though, my bowels are gonna love me in the morning...