Skillz (or the general lack thereof)...

This would be one of those evenings where I desperately wish I had some semblance of talent or skill in the kitchen. My cook Trevor isn't feeling well and went to bed at 7:30 - leaving me hungry and left to fend for myself.

On another note, we don't seem to have any food. Which can't be right because I've been to the store at least twice since we've been home. Maybe I am just seeing ingredients? I'd attempt some sort of combination (with the intent of creating a meal), but I worry about poisoning my already ill husband. And then there is Thor to think about.

When did I become such an epic failure in the kitchen? Oh, wait. That's right: The day I was born. I have other skills. That aptitude test a decade or so ago discovered that my true talent lies in the field of pitch. To be fully happy, I should be learning and studying some long dead Chinese dialect where a single word, depending on pitch, means a multitude of different things.

I love that my true calling in life is completely irrelevant and...well, useless. I've tried to self soothe over the years by telling myself that practical skills are completely overrated. That is until I am faced with evenings like this one where I am left to my own devices (a.k.a. starving on the couch with a box of Wheat Thins and a few hunks of dried papaya) without the basic knowledge needed to feed myself properly.

Seriously. It is kind of amazing I've survived this long. Thor is totally screwed.

Update: Trevor just woke up and made me a salad. I totally didn't know we had salad fixings! That man is a genius. What ever would I do without that man I love? Oh, that's right. Shrivel up and die of starvation. Note to self: Do not outlive husband...

Update II: Trevor just pointed out that I was (apparently) SO hungry earlier, that I opened the box of Wheat Thins upside down. I also missed the bag of carrots in the fridge, which were located next to invisible salad fixings. Maybe my brain IS shrinking?