The Question No One Wants To Talk About: What the Hell Is For Dinner?
Yes, you care more about your texting grammar.
So what the hell is for dinner in your house? That’s right. I’m asking you. You, the reader, what the hell is for dinner?
The question, what’s for dinner, is like the spiky hairs you feel after a haircut. They poke you and bother you and get inside your head. They’re a real pain in the neck. Few things in life are worse than palpable hunger pains. These are pains that can’t be just brushed off or blown off (and neither are those spiky hairs).
Dinner decisions aren’t exactly a muse, are they? In fact, the whole subject is a palpable pain! It’s the quiz that never has the right answers. It’s the one question that demands your attention. It’s the kind of hardship you endure after a bird craps on your car door handle.
As I said, there are no easy answers, forget the right ones. Supper is the puzzle you try to solve by seeking inspiration in your cabinet, refrigerator, and freezer. You see the same old stories in cans of soup, frozen pizza, leafy greens, all of which spark a weak sigh.
All you want is something easy. Something you can unwrap, unbag, or unbox. Something you can zap in the microwave.
