But this one was.
I looked over at my son who was moving the grilled chicken around on the plate, less than enthusiastically.
And then over to my husband, who was choking down a lettuce wrap with even less enthusiasm.
I thought, where did I go wrong?
But that’s when I saw it.
Its bulging, iridescent eyes staring back at me.
A big. ass. fly. taking shelter between two of my hand-picked, gently washed lettuce leafs.
Ok, now I’m not hungry either.
I was so excited to find this healthy recipe on Pinterest a few hours earlier. Shortly after I had downed a bag of Krystal burgers with a coworker.
Speaking of…I’m mad at you (and you know who you are) for forcing me to go there. Reminding me of the cheesy, melty, tiny-white-onion-and pickle deliciousness…
So small and so evil. Before you know it, you’ve eaten 6 of them.
The last time I indulged in a steamy white bag of meatloaf buns, I was in college. Most certainly hammered. Having convinced some poor Sig Ep pledge to drive me there at 2 a.m.
Now, what’s my excuse?
I’m not in college. Rarely hammered. A frat boy did call me a MILF the other day…
At one point during lunch, my coworker clutched her chest in pain.
And that’s when you know it’s been a good meal.
My husband and son clearly weren’t as excited about our healthy dinner as I was (even before Diptera reared his ugly bald head.)
I only started cooking about a year ago. (That’s sad, I know – given that I’m 30 years old and have been married for seven years. My excuses were superfluous. I work too late. I’m too exhausted. I don’t know how to cook. My husband loves to cook! The truth is, I don’t actually know if he loved to cook, or if he just did it out of necessity. You know. To survive.)
Even though I’ve only been cooking for a few months, I can already tell when my husband loves a meal and when he hates it.
Like the time I made vegetarian lasagna roll-ups, and he suggested, mid-meal, that we go to Cold Stone.
Tonight I knew right away that he didn’t like the lettuce wraps. But he lied and said he did. And he did eat part ..of one.
He wasn’t fooling me.
I’ve seen this man eat an entire rotisserie chicken in one sitting.
I just have to accept the fact that not all meals will be winners.
But I’ve got roughly 50 more years of meals to go (sorry, Honey), so the odds are in my favor!
And should I have another fly-infested-lettuce-wrap failure…well, there’s always Krystal Burger!