Happy Valentine's Day! I wish I could begin to tell you how IRRITATED I am at Marvin.
I am making a romantic crock pot pot roast. Because what's more romantic than eating something with the word "crock" involved? Anyway, you know I don't cook. So the whole thing is a challenge for me as it is. For example, I didn't realize you are supposed to cook this thing for EIGHT HOURS in the crock pot, and who looked up how to do this at 11:00?
So I called my mother. Because I'm 45 years old.
"Well, you can brown the meat, that'll hurry it along," she said.
"...brown?" I asked. Why does she have to use these technical terms?
After she told me about this highfalutin' procedure called "browning," I went to the store, where I was OVERWHELMED by the eleven billion selections of red meat. Who knew there was so much? I looked around for a grandmotherly type, which is what I always do when I try to cook and I'm lost at the grocery store, but you know who was at the store today?
Men. All men. Buying grocery store flowers, which, men? Don't. Just don't. And also wine and chocolate, hoping to get their women into some kind of chemical trance.
Anyway I finally got the guy at the meat counter to tell me what part of the cow to purchase, and if one more hapless soul leaves a "I thought you went vegetarian, June!" comment on here I will weep.
So then I got home and commenced the BROWNING, which was scary, and started putting the vegetables in the crock pot, when I realized...
...are you ready for this?
We were out.of.SALT.
SALT!
Who runs out of salt?
And this is ENTIRELY Marvin's fault. I eat only processed foods, which explains why I am so thin and healthy. I never NEED salt or any other condiment.
The other day when my friend The Other June was here, she had coffee and I asked the question I hate to ask people: "Do you take anything in your coffee?" I hate to ask that because we never have staple items and I always hope they say, "No, black like my moods!" as I do.
"No, not really," said The Other June. "Just a little milk and sugar." Honest to God. That is what she said. I had JUST been sighing in relief and then she said, "Just a little milk and sugar." What did "No, not really" mean? "I don't take any vodka or chicken wings or Polish immigrants in my coffee."
Anyway, we had milk, thank all that is holy and merciful, and I remembered a huge yellow tub of sugar, which was gone. I never use sugar, but Marvin does. "Marvin, are we out of sugar?" I asked, hoping that giant tub was hiding somehow.
"I don't know, maybe," he said, which is his way of saying yes but he's too scared of my wrath to come right out and say it.
"HOW CAN YOU NOT REPLACE SUGAR?" I railed at him in front of The Other June, who was putting brown sugar in her coffee, I swear to you.
So today I got a chair, and moved all the spices around. I never put salt or pepper on anything, have I mentioned that? But Marvin does. Did I mention that part? Even the salt shaker was completely empty. Oh, I was mad.
I called him at work. "Are we out of salt?" I gritted.
"I don't know. Maybe," he said. And then he said the worst part. The part where I am going to smash his head between two pans when he gets here tonight. The part where he rubbed salt in the wound, which may be why we're out of it.
"You could always get in the car, you know."
"I WAS JUST IN THE CAR!" I screeched. "I have to go to the dry cleaner and to the pet supply store for rabbit food and to the dog pound to drop off supplies and I have freelance work and I have to cook your stupid roast and it will have NO SALT ON IT because you can't be bothered to tell me when we're out of STAPLE ITEMS!"
By the time I got to "staple items," I was so incensed that Edsel had slunk out of the room with his ears back.
Marvin better come home with Lot's Wife, that is all I am telling you.
Anyway, happy Valentine's Day to you and yours! Or Valentimes. Because I'm in such a good mood already. Let's be sure to pronounce it Valentimes.
