Irony
My husband left today to attend Grammie's funeral in Kansas. It's not that I ever look forward to being separated from my husband, but I've found that the upside to him going away for a few days is that I can eat whatever I want for supper. I wouldn't necessarily call Josh a picky eater, but for sure he doesn't like everything that I do. I have a deep affinity for white rice. Pierogies. Chicken Parmesan. My husband doesn't share these affinities. Naturally when meal planning, I like to have good reviews, so over the past several years I have cut out foods like these not because I've been forced to, but because I aim to please. Therefore, on those occasions when I am on my own for dinner, I console myself with the thought that I can make whatever I want!
Tonight we had meatballs, pierogies, and broccoli.
However.
Sometime today between lunchtime and dinnertime, unbeknownst to me, my cold decided to take my tastebuds hostage! I could not taste a thing! There I sat, eating as fine a feast as I have made just for me (and Noah), and couldn't taste a bit of it.
If that's not irony, I don't know what is.
Tonight we had meatballs, pierogies, and broccoli.
However.
Sometime today between lunchtime and dinnertime, unbeknownst to me, my cold decided to take my tastebuds hostage! I could not taste a thing! There I sat, eating as fine a feast as I have made just for me (and Noah), and couldn't taste a bit of it.
If that's not irony, I don't know what is.
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