It ain't Friday yet

I seem to be having Friday 13th one day early...I get home from a day in London really, really looking forward to my dinner: calves' liver with a balsamic glaze, mash, lots of veg, lovely. Open up the liver and despite having an 'eat by' date of the 12th, it had gone off. Well, it smelt like it had gone off but I cooked up a little morsel just in case I was being neurotic. I sampled it, swallowed it, didn't like it, gave some to A who promptly choked and spat it out. Sensible chap - I fear I may become reacquainted with that morsel later tonight. As all the veg was already prepared I had a quick rethink - slightly tricky when you don't really have much in but there were three eggs going spare so I convinced A that a ham and cheese omelette with mash and veg was going to be his best bet. I'd have a poached egg - poached in my smashing new poach pod - with veg, and cheer myself up with some strawberries for afters. Well, the omelette stuck to the pan; my egg fell out of the poach pod as it hit the water and self-destructed in a sea of raging albumen; the veg - bar the carrots - were decidedly yuk (even the dogs rejected them) and half the strawberries had gone off. And I can feel that bit of liver just waiting to strike...