Better Late Than Later. Honesty causes me to admit that this post is being typed under guilt.

It is now 8:25 PM on Sunday and like most weekends lately, my plans to type each day of the weekend just has not happened. The soonest this might end up on the blog is Wednesday, and if I put it off until tomorrow then it would be Thursday.

The guilt is that I have not sent out much in the way of specific posts, and since I am never sure how much of my personal letters will end up being posted, the readers of this blog might not be finding anything new when they log on to see how I am doing and what I am up to.

There is certainly no shortage of things to type, and if I am diligent this coming week you will all see that, but I have been lazy and for that I am sorry.

We apparently are in the middle of a minor who-done-it and the consequence of this has resulted in the inability to prepare my usual hot meal of beans, tomato sauce and rice.

Tonight's dinner in the chow hall was chicken gravy served over a biscuit. The lack of any perceivable protein or flavor makes this a meal I do not bother to darken the portals of the chow hall.

Apparently one of our more creative inmates decided to add a large dose of salt to the five gallon drink container. According to an anonymous, certainly unreliable, source, the first inmate to drink the doctored punch proceeded to spit out the contents of his mouth all over the floor.

As a result of the screwing with the beverage by some yet to be identified (or framed?) inmate, they have closed the 'heating room.' This is the room where we are allowed to plug in our hot pots to heat our personal food.

So as a result of someone fooling around with state-provided food, those of us who were not even near the scene of the crime are being punished.

It should be noted that there is an official rule that states "can lids found outside the heating room will be considered a weapon" and any inmate found with a weapon in his possession will be written up. Under those guidelines I cannot legally open a can of tuna and mix up some tuna salad.

One side irony is that while the posted rules for our 'heating room' clearly state we are not to cook any food; they still sell us the pound of uncooked spaghetti.

I do have one of those envelope style packages of salmon that I could open up and make a salad with, but think I will just go with good old peanut butter and jelly for now.  ¶ 12:15 AM