Last night, my wife made a big pot of spaghetti sauce. It was very good. And normally, I’d be looking forward to having it a couple more times before the leftovers ran out.
But at mid-morning today, I got this text:
Just found my spaghetti sauce on stove. Was planning on giving it to kids for lunch.
Ohboyohboyohboy. Homina-homina. I was the last one to eat last night, and the last one to bed.
I have excuses, real ones. I had meant to put it up, but the pot was still hot, and I wanted to wait until it was cool enough to put in a plastic container. The light is out over the stove (not just the bulb; something wrong with the switch), so I couldn’t leave it on to remind me when I was turning lights out in kitchen. Etc.
She wrote back that there was nothing in the house (fortunately, she found some chicken nuggets in the freezer for the grandchildren), and that I was cooking tonight, and “I am hungry by 6. 7 at the latest.”
I answered with the equivalent of “aye-aye,” and went back to what I was doing.
Later, I happened to take a second to check Facebook, and found the above update, with a link to the story I made a pun about yesterday.
Good one, huh? Ha-ha!
By the way, Sunday we’ll be celebrating our 40th anniversary.
If I make it to Sunday.
Gotta get that light fixed on the stove…