Truth be told, I haven't written much lately. Likely because I haven't cooked much lately. For some reason recently, I'm feelin' a little run-down, irritable and would rather scour the On Demand portion of our cable package and retreat to bed before it's completely dark outside. Could be the fact that Spring is a tease in Chicago and never really stays, could be that we haven't had a vacation in months, could be that I'm just a lazy, television-loving, witch of a wife who has neglected feeding her husband. Well, that
all ended yesterday.
That's right, folks. The MANWICH. A can of red, velvety goodness enveloped our ground meat like a warm blanket. In the 3 1/2 minutes it took to cook, the husband's eyes spoke only one word. Desire.
He's never been happier. Mid meal, he just looked up at me with his red-stained mouth like a grateful little puppy.
Long live the witch.
This post just about put me over the edge - somewhere between laughing and empathetic tears! I c.o.m.p.l.e.t.e.l.y. relate. We had JIMMY JOHN'S for dinner tonight. An all-time low.
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