About twice a week, Sue will say, “Oh, I forgot to eat lunch.” Should someone like that even be allowed in the kitchen? I can remember every time in my whole life when I forgot to eat -- never.
Right now I am thinking about what I’ll be having for lunch two Saturdays from now -- what it should be, how long it will take to prepare, what I will have to buy to make it. Sue would be happy to live in our much-predicted future where breakfast is a red pill, lunch is a blue pill and dinner is a green pill. But she never eats breakfast, so I’d end up eating her red pill.
Shopping with Sue for food is a nightmare. I’ll put a box of kosher salt in the cart and she’ll say, “No, we have some at home.”
“What about that chicken?”
“We have chicken in the freezer.”
When we get home, I ask, “Where is the salt?” She digs through a cupboard and hands me a 10-year-old box of kosher salt. It is as hard as a rock. The salt is not simply stuck together but has become one solid crystal. You’d have to hire a diamond cutter to split it. I could sell the thing on the Home Shopping Network as the world’s biggest nonprecious jewel.
The only thing in the world harder than this chunk of stone is the ice-encrusted mystery chicken parts that she has pulled from the freezer. Mmmmm, yummy. All we need now is a knife, a fork and a good jackhammer.
Thank goodness we agree on the important things, like religion, politics and children. And we’ve agreed on one other big thing: to eat out much more often.
(Contact Jim Mullen at JimMullenBooks.com.)