I had a lovely 'WFH' day (apparently that's the office abbreviation for working from home...like PTO or OOO). Took Eric to his allergist appt in the morning (all good, hoping he will grow out of remaining patches of eczema in the next year or so), stopped in my actual work for a visit (very close to the allergist office), and then headed home for my busy work-filled day. Except for the lunch break with a friend (who I work with, so that counts, right?). Anyway, realizing there was a lovely fat steak in the fridge, I called Ethan to see if he would be home in time to grill. He would, so I'm off the hook for thinking up something for dinner. After he gets home, I realize I actually have a desire to go to the gym, so we decide to cook afterwards. Kids aren't a huge fan of steak anyway, so no real disappointment when they get pasta instead. I make a BEAUTIFUL salad for dinner (it really was...probably should have taken a picture) and head to the gym dreaming of my parmesan garlic crusted steak and the beautiful salad. Not wanting to get home before Evan goes to bed (I told him he couldn't come with me because I would get home too late), I suffered through 30 minutes on the bike, 15 on the rowing machine, and a rather dull 90210 episode (Dylan's mother comes back to town, he starts drinking, blah blah blah). Where was I? I call Ethan on my way home so he can get the grill going (smell the parmesan garlic crusted steak!!).
Phone rings as I'm pulling up to the house. Apparently the grill was not properly shut off after the football cooking on Sunday, so the propane tank is empty. And the backup propane tank is no good if you never get it refilled. Similar to the indicator of how full the tank is is no good when you never look at it.
I haven't eaten since lunch. If you've spent any time around me (or my father) when there's a food delay, you should know this is bad. REAL bad. Ethan seems to have forgotten this.
"Give me 10 minutes, I'll get another tank." Which means I won't be eating for at least 30 minutes...bad idea.
"Do you want me to cook something else?" Helping by asking questions is possibly the worst thing you can do in this situation. Either put some already prepared food in front of me or move the hell out of the way.
After a reminding glare (Eric has the same glare, by the way), Ethan wisely moves out of the kitchen and my parmesan garlic crusted steak is replaced by leftover pasta and a bowl of my beautiful salad.
Why did I blog this...now I'm hungry again and all I want is my--you guessed it--parmesan garlic crusted steak!!