Today has been a really crappy day. First, there was the barrage of email blasting me for expecting too much. Then came a phone call from my niece who I haven’t chatted with since before Christmas. (I had the displeasure of breaking the news that her Grandfather had died and that the people who lived just down the street from her never bothered to tell her.)
So dear Alan decided to do me a big favor. While I was working on swatting off the last of the pesky emails, he rummaged in the pantry and pulled out one of those meal kits in a box that I had purchased for a time when I didn’t feel like cooking. And he assembled it.
When it came out of the oven, he looked at it in horror. The thing was an icky powder-on-top and goo-on-the-bottom mess. It turns out that he read the instruction table from top to bottom then left to right rather than in rows (left-to-right, left-to-right.)
His attempt at dinner was tossed, and he went out to the local barbeque place to pick up dinner.
He also picked up a huge jug of sangria. If you don’t see me in the morning, it’s because I’m recovering.