I have this really…unfortunate habit.
I like to eat dinner early.
Early as in, as soon as it is even SLIGHTLY FEASIBLE to call it dinner. Or even Linner (you know, lunch and dinner all mashed together).
I have yet to learn that this is not a good plan. That, in fact, it is a terrible idea. The conversation almost always ends up the same.
Me, at about 6:00pm: Honey…I’m HUNGRY!”
Tim: “This is why we don’t EAT DINNER AT THREE IN THE AFTERNOON.”
And then, seeing my displeasure, Tim goes around and around, trying to figure out something for me to eat.
Me: “No..don’t feel like cereal.”
Me: “That isn’t substantial enough.”
Me: “I don’t feel like making one…”
Tim: “A cookie.”
Me: “Nooo…shouldn’t have a cookie!”
Me, after Tim fails to provide another option: “Well? That’s all you’ve got?!?”
Tim: “You and your finicky palate need to have a little meeting..work it out.”