Dinner For Two

I'm certain that there are many of you out there who would love to be in my situation. I am very fortunate in my choice of roommates. While you live with a picky eater who cannot take a single bite without judgement and comparisons to that which his mommy used to make, I live with a feller who appreciates my skill with a whisk.

I am not grateful for this. I am, in fact, an ingrate. I should be ashamed of myself. There you are scraping the remains of another uneaten meal into the trash and I am complaining about a guy who loves my cooking. Next thing, I'll be telling you that I don't feel like knitting him socks and sweaters even though he asks all the time for inexpertly crafted garments hot off the needles...

Truth be told, I have no intention of knitting him anything. I'm still plugging away on The Dishcloth (with sleeves) for myself. I can barely get through that without incurring the wrath of the knitting gods. I'm not going to risk yet another round of The Blog Sweater Curse on my well-fed guy.

Besides, I don't care for his methods. I have special meals planned just for him. I care about him enough to pay attention to his diet and to make certain that he doesn't over-indulge. I take the time to measure out his food and see that the portions are in keeping with his dietary needs. I expend more than time on this endeavor. I spend cash.

I eat the budget food. Casseroles. Things that are nice and economical. It would never occur to me to skimp on his meals. I sacrifice in order that he might eat, not just well, but in the healthiest manner possible.

Yet he isn't satisfied with that. Sure, he'll scoff down those gourmet foods I provide. But he is not finished once that is down his gullet. No. The instant I set down a spoon, remove a bit of tin foil, or place a dish in the sink to await rinsing, he is right there. Tonight, it was the spatula used to carve myself a nice hunk of zucchini casserole. It's a good casserole, don't get me wrong. It's got all sorts of stuff in it to hide the fact that there are vegetables in there. I can see how it might prove tempting.

But it is mine. Not his. Mine. And it is not even remotely close to the diet his doctor says he should be following. I checked. There is nothing in there about Parmesan cheese. But does he care about any of that? No. My guy just proceeded right to the counter and snagged that spatula for himself.

We will not even discuss the fact that I still needed it to transfer my casserole to the serving plate and how I did not wish to use it pre-licked...

Yes. I suppose it is nice to have a young man in my life who appreciates my cooking. I should just be happy with my lot and let it go.

But he does not need casserole. What he needs are sit-ups.

Iz no' tru. Iz wastin' awayz here!!! U sendz pizza!!!

It seems unlikely that I am going to enjoy a meal in peace any time soon.

SA