I wasn't going to write anything this week, because I don't have time (I should have a macro that will type that phrase), but here I am.
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I love when I have a plan for dinner. Even if I have to cook, I don't mind, as long as I know what I'm going to cook. If I had someone to tell me what to make every day, and to write down exactly the ingredients that I need, then I'd be perfectly happy to cook. And if they delivered the ingredients, too, that would be even better. And then after they delivered the ingredients, if they also did the washing, peeling, chopping, and general prep work, that would be even better. And then, after I cooked the perfectly seasoned, neatly prepped dinner, they also cleaned up...well, never mind.
I love when I have a plan for dinner. Even if I have to cook, I don't mind, as long as I know what I'm going to cook. If I had someone to tell me what to make every day, and to write down exactly the ingredients that I need, then I'd be perfectly happy to cook. And if they delivered the ingredients, too, that would be even better. And then after they delivered the ingredients, if they also did the washing, peeling, chopping, and general prep work, that would be even better. And then, after I cooked the perfectly seasoned, neatly prepped dinner, they also cleaned up...well, never mind.
But anyway, I love when I have a plan; for anything, really, but especially dinner. And I love when the plan, as it were, comes together. On the other hand, I hate when I take the chicken, which is part of the plan, out of the oven, and turn it over to season it, and dump cinnamon rather than garlic powder all over it, and then have to wash it (wash it!) before returning it to the oven. Cinnamon and chicken-washing: NOT part of any plan, ever.
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And so that's what's happening right now. Things that are not part of any plan, like leaving my phone at the store and then having to go back to get it, and near misses on the road, and losing things and forgetting things, and cinnamon-seasoned chicken--and massive panic attacks, of course--keep happening, and throwing the plans into a tailspin.
So what am I doing about this? Nothing, of course, except writing barely coherent nonsense on this blog. I'm thinking that I'll ignore it, and it will all fix itself. This approach always works so well that I'll just stay with it. What could go wrong?
*****
I really did wash the chicken; and then re-seasoned it with olive oil, kosher salt, pepper, garlic powder, basil, and oregano. Ten minutes later, we sat down to eat. "This chicken is really good," my son said, looking thoughtful. "It has kind of a sweet taste. I can't tell what it is." I feigned ignorance. The chicken was delicious.
I really did wash the chicken; and then re-seasoned it with olive oil, kosher salt, pepper, garlic powder, basil, and oregano. Ten minutes later, we sat down to eat. "This chicken is really good," my son said, looking thoughtful. "It has kind of a sweet taste. I can't tell what it is." I feigned ignorance. The chicken was delicious.
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