it's what's for dinner
so, i did my work shift at the food co-op this morning (at SIX this morning, the morning of my day off) (more on the co-op when i muster the strength -- the co-op is, in itself, worthy of its own entire blog (mrs nice guy just shouted from the couch "don't do that!")). i came home at 8:30, mrs nice guy was just getting out of the shower--having already barfed, broken the fast and gagged again for the morning--and she said "you didn't shop for food? you only did your shift?? i'm huuungry." so. clearly, mr nice guy had to go back and buy food. (mr nice guy, it should be here noted, was at a business conference over the weekend, logging an average of 4.5 hours of sleep per night. mmm, hotel porn.)
so before returning to the co-op to do the marketing, he made sure to create a menu for the week. and oh, did he ever create a menu: italian delicacies, squash casseroles, crisp salads, apple-and-cranberry cobblers. mrs nice guy, when she got home was going to be wowed. clearly.
or not. when the missus called to say she was on her way home, mr nice guy flew into a tizzy of chopping, dicing, measuring, boiling, salting, sauteing, etc. the timing was perfect: when mrs nice guy walked in the door at 8:10 pm, there was a heaping bowl of whole wheat penne with sausage, leeks and fontina (and a side of sweet-vinegar cucumber salad) awaiting her attention. she sat at the table, adjusted her chair and dug in to the scrumptious pile of heartiness before her. as suddenly she slowed down--her gaze drifting from the deliciousness on the table, her attention sadly beginning to shift again to her work--i said to her, ever so lovingly, "is everything ok? does your tummy hurt?"
she replied, with an enviable succinctness, "this tastes like fart."
and so now mr nice guy is a man left alone with leftovers--a gigantic bowl of fart, a towering 10 lbs of fart--to finish BY HIMSELF at lunch over the course of this week.