Alert the media, Michelle Obama, the grocery store and probably my mother-in-law too: I have thrown the gauntlet into my last fry pan. Dinner is officially off.
"What's for dinner?" they say. I could say fried pickles with a side of chocolate sauce, but it wouldn't matter: the Three Short Drunk People wouldn't even hear me. They would be too busy ripping their hair out and rolling on the floor in fits of dramatic disgust.
"Why do I have to eat this thing that is too hot/too gross/too smelly/too funny/too sweet/too sour?" and they won't hear that answer either. They'll be too busy wiggling in their seats, too busy shoving their palms into their faces, too busy debating the merits of pork chops with their inner food critics. They can't hear my encouraging and gentle words threats of "EAT for crying out loud EAT!" because their inner food critic will be commanding me to "pack my knives and go."
Tonight, in the middle of yet another Storm of the Century, I declared that dinner was officially cancelled. Forever.
Since I don't want to end up on Dr. Phil (or in court), it should be noted that I did promise to provide cheese and apples and some tortillas plus my spatulas and the griddle and whatever is available in the pantry too. I think I said some other things, but mostly my declaration sounded like this, "Oh yeah, Short Drunk People? You think you can do better? Have at it!"
And then I added, for effect and also because I meant it, "And when I cook something you might like? Forget about getting a bite because I'm eating every bit and if I can't, I'm licking whatever is left behind!"
I have not resorted to these drastic measures because I have worn nothing but giant boots for weeks, nor have I done it because I think my back is permanently damaged from lurching my torso into unhealthy shapes while trying not to fall on my ass while lugging in groceries. (Oh! The irony!)
So, I'm getting out of the kitchen.
Forever. Or tonight at least.
7commentsBrilliant Person Wrote...
eff it! Order a Pizza n sit on your butt. I do that at least once a week and nobody complains a bit!
Dammit. We just finished Indian take-out. You totally could have come over. Actually, plenty of leftovers so come on over.
Dinner is stupid. And they want it every. single. night.
I'm out too.
SOLIDARITY!
In addition to dinner, I've also turned in my resignation on laundry. I did so by stating something along the lines of "If I have to tell you one more time to put your dirty clothes in your hamper, I will gather every piece of clothing you have, take it out to the driveway, and set it all on fire."
Of course, it's winter and I'd have to clear the driveway out first, so there's that. At any rate, I sound cool saying it.
Wait...I'm supposed to FEED them, too? Christ.
I was making lunch today and in the middle of it I was like WHY AM I EVEN DOING THIS? WHY? It's so incredibly pointless. So yeah, I totally get it. I could just give my kid raw pancakes or a plate of broken glass. They so aren't going to get within three feet of it.
*sigh* after the eighty hundredth battle over dinner tonight, I give up too. They can extract calories from the air, for all I care.
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