The thought had crossed my mind that Labor Day might be cursed with bad weather, and yet I invited virtually every single New York friend who crossed my agitated path on Saturday night to a barbecue in my backyard. This made for an even more frustrating Monday morning when I looked out my window and checked my phone to see that thunderstorms were predicted with 80% likelihood all afternoon. So I cancelled the barbecue and conceded to spending a rainy afternoon indoors, consoled by the fact that at least now I had an excuse to have an Orange Is the New Black marathon. But then the rain stopped, and the sun came out. So in the end, the storm had lasted long enough to ruin my barbecue but not enough to excuse a lazy day. Not to mention it brought in humidity levels unlike any I've encountered since moving here.
There I was, sticky and whining , when I decided that the only acceptable remedy was to eat. Preferably with my hands, and putting to use the ton of avocados I had bought to ripen in time for the barbecue would be great. And then a voice inside my head told me to make tacos. So I set out with my roommates for the only outdoor exposure of the day to purchase the makings of a taco bar. On our list of taco accoutrements were: mushrooms rendered in garlic, sautéed peppers and onions, chicken, homemade guacamole, salsa, black beans, cheese and a whole jar of pickled jalapeños for me.
Maybe my Labor Day was not the fail I'm making it out to be, since in fact I didn't do the least bit of laboring. Except over a stove. But that's the good kind of labor.
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