Hostess in Reverse

How often do you have a party or gathering in which the larder is less bare after the party than it was before? Thanks to the generous members of my book group and their abandonment of sundry snacks and beverages at my house, I can put off grocery shopping for another day. Perhaps two.

Scored:

• 3/4 bottle of Hip Chicks Do Wine Vin Nombril
• an apple
• 2 lime-sugar cookies (homemade and totally awesome)
• 1/3 of a chocolate cake
• 2/3 of a box of Breton wheat crackers
• substantial lump of Gouda

Rejoicing over these leavings casts a somewhat unflattering light on me, I know. But I grew up in a household where food was never thrown away, especially not perfectly good food like this whose origins are beyond reproach. In addition, it should be remembered that I am the Monarch of Sloth, so anything that allows me to reduce my daily allotment of drudgery is extremely welcome.

There is, however, a rather shameful feature concerning this windfall that will certainly leave no doubt in anyone’s mind that I deserve to rule supreme over the Land of Sloth (and possibly Lardistan as well). For breakfast, I had a slice of chocolate cake and some coffee. Lunch: I made inroads into the Gouda and the Bretons. Dinner is yet to come, but over the last few hours, I have polished off 10 or so itsy-bitsy cookies that I myself had contributed to the book group spread. It’s a wonder I don’t weigh eleventy million pounds!

Oh yeah. We talked some about the book. As it turns out, we all detested it so much that none of us read more than 20 pages of it and some people (like me) were physically incapable of getting past page 1. Had it not been for the fact that our fireplace lacks a grate and that the condition of our chimney is, well, uncertain, we would have built a fire and lobbed in all copies of the book. That would have been highly satisfying.