Food for the weekend

Okay, I'm griping a little here, so if you're not up for that, go away.

As we were eating my soup at my wife's cousin's house on Friday, I turned to her and asked, in all earnestness, "May I please be finished cooking for the weekend?" I like to cook, but I've had a full slate of it this week, so after missing out on watching The Hobbit, An Unexpected Journey while I picked turkey bones out of the meat (or vice versa), I was ready to be done. She agreed that would be fair.

Fast forward to Saturday evening at home. Around 3:30 I went out for a short bike ride after the Big Game, then started watching the Iron Bowl because there wasn't anything else going on. I've really watched very little college football - and only a few pro games, too - this year, so I didn't feel too badly about indulging in another game. A while later, maybe close to 6, my wife said she was going next door for a minute, which I mistook for "going to the store," and asked her what she was getting, thinking she'd decided on something to cook. She repeated herself for my clarification, left for next door, and came back without my noticing. When I started feeling really hungry, about 7:45, I went upstairs to check on what our dinner plans were. Seeing that she was in the bathroom, I knocked on the door and started to open it, at which point she yelled and I realized she was trimming up the dog a bit more; I knew he was going to need a little finishing up following my start of the job earlier in the week, but in my opinion the timing wasn't so great.

So I went into the kitchen and got myself a bowl of leftover soup and sliced a piece of bread, since it was apparent that although I wasn't having to cook, neither was she going to. I was pretty irritated, actually. A while later, maybe after I'd gone crazy at the incredible Auburn touchdown at the end of the game, she came down and explained that she hadn't been yelling at me, but had dropped the clippers when I started to open the door and just hollered in reaction.

And it seems that she had gotten herself a "snack" and had been in the middle of eating it when she noticed that it was 5:30. Instead of mentioning that and telling me that I was therefor on my own for dinner, I guess she just left me to figure that out on my own.

After having it in one form or another for five meals since Thursday, I am not eating turkey tonight.

(On an unrelated note: when I float the cursor over a capital "I" with the bottom and vertical bars aligned, it looks like a mini-ellipsis.)