While making meals, doing chores, and talking with my parents, the television is ever-present in the background. You don’t realise you’ve started watching it with them until you suddenly realise you’ve become invested in the story of an animal rescue worker on the streets of San Francisco that has found a cat that went missing from Florida seven years previously.
Daytime television is a strange sort of placatory drug - that teaches nothing while acting as the vehicle for an avalanche of advertisements about life insurance, pensions, and healthcare.
This morning I defrosted the freezer in the garage so my parents can order frozen meals to get them through the next several months without having to worry about cooking. There is a company we have used at home when pushed that deliver good quality frozen food. It turns out they can deliver to my parents house. Huge win.
I’ll write more later - I need to start thinking about making dinner. My Dad has a pretty strict routine with the various tablets he is taking, so I’m having to work around that with meal times. I’m making chilli tonight.
(An hour passes while I go on a magical mystery tour through the cupboards to find long grain rice - it turns out my Mum has no system at all for storing things, but knows exactly where things SHOULDN’T go - and she doesn’t mind telling you).
Dinner is done! Everybody clean plated again, so I must have got something right. We have enough left over to make baked potatoes with chilli later in the week. Apparently tomorrow night we’re ordering something to be delivered. I wonder how I can ensure that whatever gets delivered is at least a little healthy?
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m on call to make another cup of tea before finding somewhere quiet to sit down with my book.