Dylan lives out of town most of the week. This means he is forced to feed himself in some fashion most evenings. Dylan does not enjoy cooking. He is king of the BBQ – but his grill stays at home with me. And a George Forman just really isn’t the same thing. So I frequently get messages from my lovely husband whining about having to feed himself. Here’s one of my favorites from recent memory:
Dylan: I don’t know what to have for dinner, all I eat is pizza and salad or chicken. I am just going to starve and go to bed early.
Me: Make spaghetti – that is easy!
Dylan: I don’t like making spaghetti because I need to buy milk and it ends up going bad before I use it all.
Me: … ummm. Do you just really like having milk with spaghetti? You know making spaghetti doesn’t involve milk right? Are you making your own white sauce!?! (I am now completely baffled)
Dylan: I don’t make spaghetti, I make pastaroni.
Me: …you realize that spaghetti is easier to make than Pastaroni right? And you don’t need milk…
The end.