Ohgod, only two days and 16 hours left in our long national nightmare.
But who's counting?
HAH! I AM.
(Oh, sorry, was I shouting?)
One needs comfort, even so.
Cranky craved a tuna melt, and as it is still birthday month, he got one.
This is decidedly lowbrow, but Cranky managed to poof it up into upperbrow.
The bread: Local bakery roll, cut in half.
The tuna: A's do Mar.
The trimmin's: Olive oil, a smidge of mayo, some lovely chopped olives.
The cheese: Gruyère. What a fop.
Broil, eat, gloat.
I had something else for lunch, myself. Something even comfortier.