This morning I was about to leave home without any make up, pulling trousers on while running and swearing. And then remembered, oh - it is sunday. Wrapped my blanket tight around me and smiled. This is the day of doing nothing. At least nothing important. Only thinking is allowed. Somewhat.
If I had not drunk redwine yesterday, I would have difficulties to draw the line. I would probably start by staring at case of chicken and read the ingredients - and be reliefed to comprehend that nothing is changed. Chicken is chicken meat, maybe some spice added. I would probably have eaten the bloody menu already and taking a nap right now.
If and if and if.
If the cows would fly, I would also have milk in my fridge. Low fat milk. Oh, the cow milk is really stodgy, I remembered. And then cheered myself up by believing that flying cows would have one udder for fat-free... Slammed the door and grabbed the chicken case again. What? It said "lactose-free". I smiled a bit and tryed to remember when chicken meat started to be counted as milk products. I must have missed the newspaper that day!
Or is it much worse? What if meat producers are aware of finnish people´s state of mind on sundays? As if they already know, that it is easier to spell every single particle than be scared of the consequences? Think if somebody gulp the legs and only after found out that the terrible flatus might actually be from those. Nothing to do with the saturdays drinking list, nope. If there was not any text saying "lactose-free", it would be possible to blame on the poor dish.
So I had some wine yesterday. I am not the one to phone to the chicken producer with my curlers shivering and ask for texts that do not underestimate finnish intelligence. I am kind of unqualified.
That is why I turn my eyes of the line that says "high-protein" and be happy it is unchanged. Chicken meat is still chicken meat - no matter what the wily box says.