I realize that the older I get the less I care about being on a strict schedule. Specifically, I don't really care if I eat supper at 6:30 or 8:30...just as long as I eat, I'm good. That doesn't always work for others.
My day typically ends between 5:30 and 6:00pm. I get home and have the same few things that must be done daily:
1. Check on my fountain. Make sure it has water, make sure the pump is running, make sure there isn't anything dead in it.
2. Repair whatever damage the dogs have done to the fence, and other parts of the backyard.
3. Check the mail to see if I have another exclusive offer (available to only me and my imaginary roommate named 'occupant') to take advantage of 0% interest on all balance transfers.
4. Pour a glass of Merlot and watch while my 8 year old sprays water at random on herself, the house, the fence, the fountain, the dogs and in the air while attempting to water the 4 flower plants in the middle of the yard.
5. Look around to see if my wife has made it home.
Somewhere during this time, my oldest daughter will approach me with a sad look on her face.
Good Evening. She will deadpan
What's Up?
I am hungry, when will I be fed?
I am assuming 'eventually' isn't the answer you are looking for right?
Are you listening? I'm hungry!
Last time I looked, the kitchen was that way...just to the south of the front door.
I don't want to cook....I want to eat.
I think they go hand in hand.
FEED ME.
Here, (pointing to the tasteful display of Sun Dried Tomato and Basil Triscuits on the patio table) have a cracker.
I don't want a cracker, I want FOOD!
A cracker isn't food?
DAD! I'm hungry!
Some wine then?
DAD! You have to feed me! It's the law!
You see that 'mobile instrument of death' you call a Chevy Cobalt? It can be programmed to carry you away to wonderful worlds of food enjoyment.....many of which offer the opportunity to secure food without actually leaving the protected space of the front seat.
I don't want go anywhere....wait, I do...but I don't have any money.
Really? I believe you possess a couple of small 2x4 sections of plastic that will allow you to procure food, and really almost anything else, on nothing more than your signature.
I'M HUNGRY! FEED ME!
(while munching on a Triscuit) I believe I am attempting to do that very thing.
Now, at this point my wife surfaces from wherever she has been hiding and joins the conversation. She is enjoying a glass of fine chardonnay, helps herself to one of the crackers while adding some fine cheese to my tasteful display on the table.
I turn my attention to my 8 year old, currently soaked to the skin, and wonder why I didn't just give her a bar of soap and have her shower right there in the backyard. Of course, the flowers are still dry.
Are you people going to eat!? My daughter will ask.
"Eventually" is the answer my wife offers.
I inform my wife that I had discovered earlier that's not the right answer.
"At some point" is her follow up.
I'm hungry NOW
You see that 'fine example of Detroit Automotive Excellence' parked in the driveway?
I stop her....been there, done that.
I'm going make a sandwich.
Now, you would think that at this point I'd stop her and make some decisions about supper. You would think that I would save her the anguish and pain of having to actually create her own meal.
You'd think that, but you'd be wrong.
I wait just long enough for her to get inside, take everything out of the refrigerator, and then I announce I would like to go to Outback Steakhouse.
"So, you want to come or do you have your heart set on that sandwich?" I ask very sincerely.
If I really want to pick on her....I act like she has to pay for her meal.
*quoted from Robert Klein
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