Instead, I rolled over and looked at the clock and realized that I am still a flu-ridden portly grey haired spinster who can't make a proper roast beef to save her pitiful little life.
Every roast I've attempted in the last several years has positively sucked. I follow directions and hope for the best, but somehow end up with an awful lump of beef that is boiled, tasteless, and headed for the garbage bin.
Even the vegetable betrayed me this time. The carrots tasted like soap and the potatoes were still a bit raw after a full eight hours of cooking.
So I threw a big pout, scraped it all into a Tupperware, and headed back to the Happy Chair for pretzels and ginger ale.
Don't cry for me, Argentina. I will go soak my head in a hot bath, put on some freshly laundered jams, and will keep pushing the fluids and happy thoughts until this runs its course. I promise to behave myself and won't channel my inner Ina until the proper authorities have released me to do so, but if any of you have tips on making perfect pot roast...I'm all ears!