It's not so much eating them as making them. The past two times have turned out really ugly and last night was no exception.
A very important point here is that my wife is a very wise, well-educated woman, capable of anything. Well, almost anything.
Last year we were scheduled for Sloppy Joes so my wife went ahead and made them. When I went to eat one, I noticed a certain lack of texture. As it turned out, she had forgotten to put the actual beef in the sloppy joe mix. We got sauce, onions and spice but no beef.
Boy was she red.
Last night I personally fetched the beef and left it out to defrost at her request, so I knew we were not going to be in for vegan sloppy joes again.
When I went to get some of the sloppy delicacy, I immediately noticed something missing. No, the meat was there, as was the sauce. This time there were no onions or additional spices. And we spice everything.
I asked about the onions politely, so as not to seem ungrateful. She allowed as to how she hadn't put any onion in and why hadn't I asked for it.
Well, she had something of a point there; I hadn't asked for it. I had only taken out the onion and left it next to the pan.
Next up was the missing spice. I asked even more gingerly, so as to avoid flying cookwear (and possibly pets). Nope, no extra spice.
One of the kids took a bite, immediately pronounced the Joes SUCKY and stated that mine were better.
I suggested my wife take this up with one of her doctors, as this is obviously an issue. Maybe she was attacked with a can of Sloppy Joe sauce when she was little or something.
I like to think of myself as entertaining (hence this blog). Making people laugh is one of life's highest callings, at least for me.
My dear wife informs me that, entertaining as I am, I am much more entertaining asleep. Apparently I put on quite the show: laughing, crying, dancing and telling jokes. Unfortunately she had never been able to understand any of what I was saying other than the gist of what was going on.
Until the other night.
She worries endlessly about me, apparently making my sleep antics sometimes quite upsetting. The other night I was upset about something and she finally managed to make it out:
I am told she didn't know whether to hit me with furniture or laugh hysterically. Fortunately for me, she chose the latter.
I can't imagine for the life of me why she should be surprised that I, or for that matter, any male, uttered those words. Seems perfectly normal to me, awake or asleep.
Meanwhile I am faced with a dilemma: I need shorts. The PA summer weather is in full force, meaning that the temperatures are in the nineties, the humidity in the eighties and every day we're treated to thunderstorms.
While I am still not over the Great Sock Crisis, today we must unfortunately examine shorts. As you might guess, the issues with both are the same: length.
Rest assured I do not want to be one of those creepy guys in Speedos. You will never see that (thankfully). But I have certain standards for shorts, largely that they do not come to or over my knees. Unfortunately one cannot purchase shorts that do not come to or cover the knees, so I'm kinda screwed. To make matters worse, shorts are so wide I refer to them as Multi-Person Pants.
Until recently I have gotten through this crisis by purchasing swim trunks, which, of course, do not come to my knees or cover them. Unfortunately I have started to get grief and funny looks (moreso) from friends and total strangers. My wife assures me this has to do with the lack of length of my swim trunks, plus it's apparently wrong to wear swim trunks instead of shorts.
Don't ask me - I'm still in the dark over the apparent silly height of my socks.
My wife plans to go shopping but I dread the outcome. It's not like I don't want to go with her; it's just that I fully expect to be upset at what we find. Plus the summer is here, which I am informed means one cannot purchase summer clothes. If I had wanted shorts, I should have procured them when it was cold, when no one needed them.
I stopped questioning this a long time ago. If I required things to make sense, I would have shot myself years back.