Then I open the freezer door for awhile and afterward lean in the pantry doorway. If nothing immediately jumps out at me (Hi! I'm pasta and all I need is sauce!) then I inevitably end up at the junk drawer poking around at pizza coupons.
Also? There's pretty much a direct correlation between whether I remembered to defrost chicken and the number of complaints I have about my marriage.
"I don't KNOW what's for dinner, Chris. And furthermore, you promised to take me to Europe when we were dating."
Why do I have all these damn cookbooks?
I'm the kind of person that requires a lot of direction. And, no, silly, step-by-step recipe instructions are not enough. I think I would prefer it if each cookbook said "Open Me" on their covers and "Buy Me" next to each ingredient. Then perhaps I would go grocery shopping and come back with something more than ice cream and mini waffles.
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