It was my first day back to work. It was nice to get back to a routine.
On the way home this evening, we realized that we had nothing set aside for dinner. Our American friends calling this process, "fixing dinner". That, and referring to pop as "soda", makes them so endearing to us. Oh, that and referring to the thing you get after you have dinner somewhere as "the check". Of course, Canadians call it "the bill". Those funny Americans. Ha ha ha.
Anyway, we didn't have anything ready for dinner, nothing to fix, nothing prepared. Patricia's clearly not earning her keep, is she, ladies and gentlemen? I bring home the meat, and she damn well cooks it, I say. But, no. I have to bring it home, marinade it, saute it, cook it, let it rest on a plate while I prepare the vegetables, and present it on a dinner plate, only to have it spat upon because I forgot the damned parsley.
So, we didn't have any dinner ready. I think I mentioned that before. We weren't sure what to do, so I casually stated that I had heard today that Wendy's was changing its menu and that we hadn't been to a Wendy's in some time.
Remember, we didn't have any dinner at home. There was nothing prepared at my domicile for us to eat. Wendy's seemed like a good option, so we went there, only to discover that the butter-on-the-bun hamburger wasn't up here yet; apparently, they are experimenting with these amazing burgers only in some U.S. Wendy's. More's the pity.
I can't recall if I told you before, but there was no food prepared at the house for us to eat for dinner this evening. That means that the burger and the chili had to do. And, it did. Patricia made do with her regular Baconater burger, which I gather has bacon in it. I don't like to assume these things. You know what happens when you assume things. Yeah. That.
I think the moral of tonight's story is that the next time there is nothing left to eat in the house for dinner on a given evening, I should get someone else to make it.
Or go to Burger King.
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