Laziness Takes Planning and Effort !

Deciphering what I scrawled on a Tupperware lid for a container I
chucked in the freezer months ago is not one of my better skills. But I can
always use it to my advantage.

The other night I defrosted what I thought was beef stew and came to
discover later that it was this mysterious opaque liquid. It tasted like
a sweaty pig. Ah, ham stock! But I had no time left to make pea soup
for dinner.

So we ordered from McDonald’s.

Now some might suggest that I slow down and take the time to properly
label these containers. But here’s the method to my madness.

Four o’clock in the afternoon rolls around. I haven’t got a clue
what to make for dinner because I don’t want to cook dinner anyway.
About this time the kids start bugging me: "What’s for dinner?"
And they get one of three answers: "Food," "I don’t know,"
and "Your guess is as good as mine."

So I open up the freezer and search for one of my mystery bowls. And
then I pray that whatever it is, it’s really gross and we get to order
out for pizza.

But there’s more! I have to wait until most of the cereal in the
house is gone so my husband doesn’t proclaim that Happy Pops are good
enough for dinner.

I also have to work up a sweat and look like I’ve been run over by a
truck when he walks in the door. This will cue him that I’ve had a
bad day and ordering out is the least he can do for me…his poor
wife…who selflessly brought five children into the world.

But I don’t tell him that. Knowing my husband it wouldn’t work.
But sometimes he takes pity on me if I’ve put in a good effort.

So just before he gets home I tidy up—not something I am prone to do
so it’s a pleasant shock when he walks in the door. This is how I
work up a sweat. For that ‘truck ran’ me over’ look I just have
the boys start yelling each other on cue ("Hey, yell louder and
you’ll get ham and pineapple on that pizza!") so I can look wearily at my
husband and ask him, "How was YOUR day?" as if mine was so horrible
his couldn’t compare.

It takes a lot of effort to get out of cooking dinner, probably even
more than it takes to cook it. But I don’t care. If Momma ain’t
happy, ain’t nobody happy. I mean, after all, that IS why they invented
drive-thrus right? So I can drive through in my jammies and pick up
dinner?

 

By: Lisa Barker

 

 

Tags: Humor, Laugh!