Truth be told, perhaps the lack of people today was a blessing. Alex had the relative run of the place. Nobody watching him fumble with the stoves and the ovens. He would have never heard the end of it if anyone realized how long he'd taken to realize he'd forgotten to turn the plates on, or how many potatoes he'd gone through because they had simply refused to cook, or disintegrated into the water.
It had been hours, but finally, he was done, the dishes washed up and put away, everything put back in its proper place. Nobody would have to know. Striding out with a plate topped to the brim, he makes his way back to the garden, finding a good place to seat himself and start eating away. A chuckle escaped his muzzle as he considered what he had. Altogether too many greens and not enough meat. Talk about upholding the stereotype.