Regarding yesterday’s post, it occurred to me the pronunciation of “x” in Basque is roughly equivalent to “sh” in English. Therefore, I fell into my own double meaning trap by referring to my daughter as “Bitxi.” Crap. And I thought I was so clever too. Well, back to the sandbox with that one.
In short, no cigar.
Anyway, it was shorter than usual weekend with my daughter. That means I’m back to my slovenly bachelor ways sooner than usual. Coffee and hot sauce days are back again.
I’ve been separated and for the the most part on my own for well over four years now. I also have the cooking skills (or perhaps more correctly, the cooking desire) of a sloth on barbiturates. Any dish more complex than “microwave for two minutes” earns a blithe dismissal. I often get nutrition rather in spite of myself.
This is not to say I subsist entirely on takeout. I’m not that rich. Like most people around here, I’m familiar with the neighborhood Albertson’s and Fred Meyer. It’s just that most things I buy are prepared foods. Prepared foods have expiration dates and rarely come in sizes appropriate for one. In other words, I wind up throwing out a lot of expired shit.
Yes, even the spray cheese expired. I’m such a barbarian.
This is one of two things about me that irritates my daughter to no end. The other being that I never carry change, which inevitably comes up every time we pass a gumball machine. My rebuttal of “We live in a cashless society” brings no relief.
The expired food issue came to a head about a year ago when my daughter attempted to eat expired pudding, “attempted” being the critical term here. She then looked in my refrigerator and announced EVERYTHING I had in there was expired. Turns out she was right. Oops. Expiration dates remain a contentious issue when she’s with me at the Command Center.
I suppose she’d appreciate it if I got a girlfriend (or at least a roommate) who could cook. I’d like that too, actually. Or, maybe I could learn to cook for myself and become the Gordon Ramsay of Idaho.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I’m funny!
Image credit: Dave Pullig
In the meantime, a diet of such culinary delights as frozen chimichangas and chicken nuggets await. Yes, I’m well aware this does nothing for my weight problem. However, barring further freak illness and/or injury I think I’m set to make a return to the gym this week.
Oh, this should be good.