Who knew cooking was overrated? Wanna know who? Me, that’s who. Cooking sucks. All day long I’m thinking about food, and I
hate it. I’ve been married for over 10
years now and I can count on my fingers the total number of times I’ve cooked a
complete dinner, including Thanksgiving and Christmas. I was genetically denied the ability to cook;
it just isn’t in me. So here we are, the
“cook” is away and I’m stuck here trying to figure out how to keep from
accidently starving my children.
So the first night Steve was away, Katie
Beth insisted on cooking. We decided on
spaghetti because I had watched my husband cook that enough to remember the
basics. So I stood by, patiently
watching every move she made, praying that she didn’t burn herself. I was a nervous wreck! Quickly, I realized there was truly no need
to worry. Her dad had taught her
well! It was the best spaghetti I had
ever eaten!..sorry dad, it really was better.
Then came my turn to take a stab at the
cooking experience. I was flying solo,
this time. I had just gone to Costco and
spent a small fortune on a variety of meat…because I didn’t want to have to
piece-meal our dinners, no pun intended.
So walking through Costco, I just started throwing meat left and
right…no real discrimination attached.
If it looked edible, it was going in!
Steak and Potatoes…that was the choice I
had made. What a mistake! I had called my mother the day before to
verify the timing of baking a potato. But
what I didn’t realize was that potatoes come in a variety of sizes and the cook
time actually does depend on its size.
I throw the steaks in a skillet, basically
drowning in butter…because, what harm is butter going to do, right? The steaks took a little longer than I
expected but the timing with the potatoes worked out perfectly…or so I
thought. I pulled the potatoes out of
the oven after 45 minutes, and they were nowhere near being edible, in any way,
shape, or form. I put them back in the
oven and finally after another 30 minutes the potatoes were finally done. Never mind the fact that the rest of the food
was cold. Do you know what happens to
steak when it gets cold? It gets tough
and has this very undesirable texture!
Needless to say, neither of the kids really were interested in eating
it; I really don’t blame them. Katie
Beth, the sweetheart that she is, attempted to tell me that it was the best
dinner, but I know that she was just trying to make me feel better. It wasn’t that great!...actually, it was
bad.
After dinner, my sweet neighbors, who
also happen to be George’s babysitter, invited us over to have dessert with
them. We obliged, of course. Walking back in the house is when we
discovered the treat left for me by my dogs…courtesy of my husband, Steve.
Unbeknownst to me, dear Steve left a quart
of motor oil right inside my front door. Because you know, that's where some
people think motor oil goes. Riddled
with separation anxiety, the dogs evidently have a coronary and freak out on
me. I have no idea how the hell they did it but somehow the cap blew off the
container, shooting the ENTIRE bottle of motor oil all over my ceramic tile and
hardwood floors! My house is a virtual slip 'n slide!
Oh Dear God! Give me a frickin' break, why
don't ya! Does this crap happen to anyone else or is this punishment? Good
grief!
It's too bad this didn't
happen 15 years ago or else I'd strip down naked and have a ball! But now, not
so much, thank you!
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