My housemate and I purchased steak the other day. I’ve been feeling a little under-meated of late and the sheer size of the mammoth porterhouses selected had me significantly giddy. I chose a day when I knew several people might be home so that we could all enjoy the meat planks and the marvellous assortment of freshly sauteed and gorgeously presented seasonal vegetables that I would have lovingly prepared.
This is what happened after work today.
Got steaks out of freezer, placed on bench. Left the room.
Came back ten minutes later, looked at steaks, contemplated pizza.
Looked more at steaks, still irritatingly frozen and completely uncooked
Sat on bed, whinged aloud about steaks.
Finally opened pack, put steaks on plate and put in microwave. I am Martha.. someone.
Despondently sipped a cider by the sink wishing a housemate would come home and tell me how best to construct a meal/construct a meal for me
Success! Josh home and roped into cooking steaks on BBQ! Things looking up.
Huge steaks still defrosting
Josh is cleaning the BBQ and I am now sitting on the floor of kitchen imagining a teeny race of people who might worship at the foot of our White Pages stack
This is why I shouldn’t have children.
Note: while writing, Josh made the salad and politely didn’t tell me to get off the floor.