This morning I put some chicken in the crock pot. To clarify… I put the word *cook* in quotations because I once mentioned crock pot cooking to an older, Italian, female, co-worker and she chastised me pretty righteously. “That is NOT cooking!!! I can’t believe you let something sit ALL DAY paying no attention to it and call what you are doing – COOKING!!” In retaliation for that I started calling her when I was making pasta – “hey Nanc… hear that? It’s the Prego sliding right outta the jar!” I’m sure she was crossing herself and asking for forgiveness on my behalf.
My life – being no different from every other person I know – is way too busy to do anything other than crock pot the shit out of stuff. Meals involve either a phone call or a crock pot – there is no other option.
Anticipating high praise, I called the kids to check in on them and ask, “does dinner have the house smellin’ all tasty?”
“Uhhhmmmm…. well… to be honest mom… it kinda smells like dog poop,” I could tell Cal’s face was all squished up.
In normal times – this would have warranted a nasty comeback… however……. we are having a little bit of an issue at our house these days with our elderly german shepherd. She poops on the floor almost daily; you have no idea the stress this is causing – while not the neatnik I’d like to be, I am certainly NOT a person who is ok with dog turds on my floor EVER, let alone on a daily basis. I’ve considered having her put down but dammit she still seems to be happy most of the time – I’m at the end of my rope. So, when he told me dinner smelled like dog poop…
“Well son… considering our current dog situation… are you sure it ISN’T actually dog poop somewhere?”
“No, when we got home we smelled it pretty bad so me and Alex looked over the entire house. Then we figured out — it’s dinner.”