"Some other time," Sam said. "Eventually, you run out of things to do around here." Which probably explained why she'd become to experimental with her vodka as of late, trying to add flavors, cooking of ways to...cook up more. That kind of shit.

The only thing worse than the horror of this place was the boredom.

Although she sometimes wondered just how much the two were related. But that was more social science shit.

She gestured to a little line of five potatoes, sitting by the sink. "Why don't you wash those and start cutting out the eyes?"