I turned crazy the other night (that’s when I’m normal one minute and then crazy the next.) It happens every three months or so. I think I allow my frustration—usually over the beast’s messiness—to build up.
Sometimes it feels like I spend my weekend tidying up and organizing our lives and then the Beast can turn it all upside-down in seconds. I can’t remember what set me off this particular time—maybe a pile of records left on the dining room table—but I turned into a nasty, capital B. The Beast was afraid. And I too was afraid after he said my behaviour reminded him of a mother figure. Yikes. So to make it up to him I offered to cook him anything he wanted. I think he asked for a steak dinner with rhubarb crumble for dessert. I decided to make my fancy meatloaf and rhubarb sour cream crumble pie instead.
What makes my meatloaf fancy? Good question. Well, it’s the leeks and red onion I sauté and then add to the meatloaf recipe you find on the back of the Lipton’s onion soup box. Wait—it gets fancier! I reserve some of the Lipton’s onion soup mix and sprinkle it over the vegetables that roast in the same pan as the meatloaf. If that’s not fancy, then I’m not 5’11” with defined cheekbones.
The Beast doesn’t flip over my meatloaf dinners the way I do. That’s why I was determined to make this one perfect. And I knew he wouldn’t be enthusiastic about the pie because of the sour cream (the poor thing is trying to cut down on dairy because he thinks it makes him congested.) So it was crucial that I make the pie from scratch and put a shitload of love into it. Then I remembered that I had a left-over frozen pie shell in the freezer. And then the game was over: everything began to roll steadily down-hill after I made the fateful, lazy decision to not make my pastry from scratch. I can hear some of you right now: “But it’s so easy to do though!” Oh I know it’s easy, but it’s the cleaning of the countertop beforehand to make sure no bits of coffee grinds make their way into the pie and the doing up of all those dishes afterwards.
In short, the pie came out looking like acne.
And what about the meatloaf? It was the worst I’ve ever made. I don’t think I added enough fanciness. The Beast described the taste of the vegetables as “funny”. He was quite a gentleman about it though–the “it” being me apologizing for turning crazy by making dinner for him comprised of things he didn’t really want. The whole meal was a bust, except for the pie: even though it looked like a special child made it, the Beast finished it for breakfast and lunch the next day.
One footnote here: I’m not 5’11. And I’ve never seen my cheekbones.
Second footnote: I can make pie crust. I could make pie crust all day long if I felt like it man.
Here’s documentation to prove it: