I found a recipe for lamb meatballs that was so easy to make, I had dinner ready in 20 minutes, which put me on the couch in time to watch “House Hunters” on HGTV. We had leftovers, so I made E another sandwich for lunch.
I figured since he liked the first pita sandwich I made him, he’d devour this one, too.
The next morning, I played good little housewife and assembled a sandwich for my man with the meatballs and homemade yogurt sauce in a pita pocket. It looked so good I wanted to eat it myself, but instead, I handed E the perfectly packed lunch as I kissed him good-bye before work.
The day went on. I wondered what he thought of the meal.
“Did you eat the sandwich I made you for lunch?” I asked when he came home later that night.
“No,” he said flippedly.
“No? Why not?”
He smirked. “Because I forgot it was there.”
“You forgot it was there? You forgot I made lunch for you? You forgot you had a delectable lamb meatball sandwich in your bag all day? Really?”
“Yeah. I did,” He said.
“So is the sandwich still in your bag?”
“No, I threw it out.”
I couldn’t believe the audacity and complete disregard for my efforts. I stood in front him and without moving a muscle, I gave him the what for.
“The sandwich still counts,” I said.
“Yes, honey it stil counts.”
Edited by coconess - Sep 26 2013 at 8:57am