It all started on Friday evening. I picked Emily up at 5:00 and we headed over to the mall to walk laps. What can I say, I was in the throes of a very intense FitBit workweek challenge and I was determined to get a few thousand more steps on the board.
After our walk I dropped Emily off at home and stopped by a local fried chicken establishment aptly named Chicken Time. I've instituted a new rule in our house called "I Don't Cook Dinner If It's More Than 80 Degrees Inside," because evidently mid-July is about the time when goofballs who bought their house in December regret not picking one with central air.
Earlier last week we'd received a coupon for a free 8 piece fried chicken meal from Chicken Time, the timing of which coincided perfectly with my new no-cooking rule. I placed my order and was told to take a seat, it would take about 14 minutes to be ready. As I sat down in a booth, I was first fascinated by the gentleman dining at the table next to me who brought his own dinner plate from home. It appeared the "restaurant" only served paper plates and who wants to eat their fried chicken on a paper plate when you can bring some perfectly good Corelle dishware from home?
In addition to the B.Y.O.P. (bring your own plate) trend, I unfortunately observed a whole host of unappetizing sights in those 14 minutes. While I waited I texted Matt to tell him that the cleanliness of the restaurant was questionable at best, to which he replied with the most recent report from the county health inspector.
Let's just say in March, 2016 there was some evidence of members of the phylum rodentia in the dry food storage area.
And good old Chicken Time is a repeat offender in that department.
Needless to say, I didn't eat much dinner.
Saturday was my niece Annabelle's first birthday party. We partied so hard that I came home and took a three hour nap.
Matt cooks on Saturday nights, so when I awoke from my slumber I asked him what his dinner plan was.
"Well," he said, "I have a new, innovative dinner idea for tonight. I hope you're as excited about it as I am. The idea is called, Create Your Own."
"Create your own what?" I asked.
"Dinner," he said.
I told Matt I appreciated the ingenuity but I create my own dinner six nights a week. On Saturdays I'd like someone else to create my dinner for me.
When I was growing up, and let's be honest, even when I still lived at home at age 22, I would ask my mom EVERY NIGHT after dinner, "So what are we having for dinner tomorrow?" And for some reason she always answered calmly and just didn't escort me out to the curb and change the locks behind me, which is what I might've done after I answered that question LITERALLY six thousand times.
But Matt came through on Saturday night with some delicious bacon cheddar burgers on the grill.
On Sunday I walked by the thermostat as dinnertime approached, and HOLLA 86 degrees.
I made the formal announcement that due to the temperature the kitchen was closed, and fixed myself a plate of leftover sandwiches and pasta salad from the birthday party.
Matt joined me at the dinner table with his glass of milk and a plate containing simply two giant kaiser rolls and butter.
He didn't make one comment about the absence of an official dinner, but I realized I'd just unintentionally thrown "create your own dinner" right back at him.
So since we have a lot of hot days ahead and man cannot live on rolls and butter alone, I spent Sunday night preparing a lengthy grocery list and well thought out two week meal plan.
Rest assure there is no fried chicken involved.