Dinner dilemma

Last night was the night of scrounging through our alarmingly empty kitchen, fruitlessly searching for dinner makings and coming up empty. Bless me father for we have sinned. It's been weeks since our last trip to Trader Joe's and my dining options came down to a handful of frozen chicken nuggets and the last remaining baby gouda, which rattled around in the dairy drawer crying from loneliness. I couldn't bear to put them out of their misery, so I got takeout faux sushi from the new place up the street. Half California roll and half tempura roll---mmm mmm good. Then I watched "28 Days Later" for the umpteenth time. I'm so obsessed.

Glenn likes to tease me because I never cooked when I was single. When left to my own devices, I cobbled together meals from whatever I had in the house-- a handful of almonds, a piece of cheese, some Lipton's rice leftovers, the ever trusty PB&J. Before we moved in together, he'd come to visit and find no food in my kitchen. Cooking is just a pain in my ass. I want instant gratification on the food front, and if a meal requires more than ten minutes of labor I'll happily pay someone else to do the work. This is why Glenn usually handles the cooking. We eat a lot of steamed veggies, pasta with meat sauce, salad from a bag, Trader Joe's chicken sausage cooked to tasty perfection on the George Foreman grill. Then I ignore the dishes in the sink for as long as possible before giving in and cleaning to my heart's content.