luxury

I was all geared up to do another baseball post, but when my dad told me that even he is sick of the pervasive Red Sox media coverage, I reconsidered. I thought, instead, that I'd tell you all what I realized today.

I came home from work exhausted, having had my typical Friday, which is to say sucky. Dan asked if I was going to cook. I said, half-laughing, "Well, I'm really tired, but since I wouldn't want you guys to starve to death, I guess so." Immediately my dad (not obeying the 30 minute rule you'll note) chimes in, "Yeah, there's nothing here for me to eat!" Yeah, except for, like, hot dogs, eggs, grilled cheese, frozen pizza, and probably four different kinds of soup, just to mention a few things the cooking-impaired can handle. But I digress.

So D's looking in the freezer making suggestions about what I should start fixing and, as I go over to look too, I hug him and put my head on his shoulder and say, "You know what would be awesome? It'd be awesome to come home from work some day and have dinner waiting for me."

And I realized that it was true. I think of that as the ultimate in luxury: to come home to a delicious hot meal after a long and crappy day at work. I don't think I fully appreciated it back in the day when my mom was alive and I was often the beneficiary of her home cooking. Moral of the story? I dunno. If someone cooked for you tonight, tell them they rock? It'll do.

xoxo

***stir fried shrimp and veggies w/ rice, btw