The hardest part about my day is….
As you know from several of my past posts like this one, I hate to cook. It literally ruins my day to have to prepare a meal for my family. I know that sounds kind of selfish, but I’m simply not wired for cooking. I find it stressful and generally annoying. I’m still waiting for someone to gift me with a live-in chef. The irony of my passionate dislike for cooking is that my son proclaimed this to me the other day while eating baked ziti I had prepared:
“Even though you hate to cook, you are actually pretty good at it!”
After he said that, I looked behind me, thinking that perhaps he was talking to someone else. Of course I was flattered he thought I was a decent cook, but it kind of makes it worse. At least if I was a really horrendous cook, I’d have more of an excuse to order in Chinese food and pizza every few nights.
So, what does a girl who hates to cook, do with the dreaded dinner hour each day?
Well, it varies.
Some days I hunker down and prepare one of the ten recipes I know by heart. I am moody and bitchy the whole time, but I do manage to provide a decent meal for the five of us.
On rare occasions, I search epicurious.com and find a new recipe. I always specify “easy” and “quick” in the advanced search bar so that it spits out a recipe that I can actually understand and follow. This has not happened in about two years, but never say never.
Other days I say, “screw it” and have actually nothing at all prepared. I act like I’m surprised it’s dinner time and we all actually have to eat. I say something like, “oh, it’s 6:30pm, how did that happen? Anyone want a sandwich or eggs for dinner?”
And on pretty much every Friday night, I don’t worry about dinner at all because I know I’m ordering a pizza from the local place in town. I’m sure when I call, the pizza guys are already writing down my order, knowing that it’s going to be 2 pies and a salad.
I don’t want you to think that meal time always falls to me. My husband loves to cook so when he has the time, he takes control of the kitchen and gets to work. He actually enjoys it, which absolutely baffles me. But, I don’t complain. I sit back, watch him work his magic and sip my chardonnay. And just like that, the hardest part of my day, becomes the best part of my day.
P.S. Honey, if you want to quit your day job, I know an opening for a live-in chef. The pay is non-existent, but I promise to make up for it with an all-expenses paid vacation (courtesy of your American Express card) to a tropical island twice a year, where we can both eat dinner out every night. I’ll even get you your own free parking space, with this sign to go with it:
** This post was part of Finish-The-Sentence Friday, hosted by Janine, Kate, Dawn, and Stephanie…if you’d like to read more posts finishing the sentence or to participate, click this button: