On uncooked pasta and peanuts

If I were to ask myself, “Faye, pick a person, place or thing that you remind yourself of in this very moment.”
I would have to answer, “I am the house on Extreme Home Makeover.”
I am in need of a bus that will park in front of me for about a week, with a team ready to take on the challenge.
My refrigerator would say the same. I have done my grocery shopping at the deli for the past four days with Ferdinand in tow, and a 3 minute window to get whatever I can reach before Ferdinand begged to go back home, drawing the attention of anyone close enough to see I have a child that shouldn’t have been anywhere but bed. There is a half bottle of rootbeer and one one of cream soda. There is a bag of carrots that were wilted before I bought them, 4 eggs and 1 sausage. I have a nearly full container of plain yogurt with a popularity rating of chicken suit late at night at an unprotected hen house.
I have no idea what I’m making for dinner. I’m having a feeling it might not happen. I’m having visions of turning my pantry drawer upside down on the kitchen table, and saying “Thats it; that’s all there is. No complaining.” And poor Ferd chewing his way through uncooked pasta and the odd peanut.

Leave a Reply