On Saturday, Ben got up before we did and made coffee. When I ambled downstairs, he heard me on the stairs and poured me a cup of coffee. Handing it to me, he said, “Here’s coffee. I’m not foolin’ around.” I surveyed the kitchen and realized that he had all ingredients for “special breakfast” out and ready to go. I couldn’t argue with that, especially before coffee.
For supper, there had been a honking huge pork loin in the freezer that needed an exit strategy. We thawed it and used it to produce pork tacos. This required getting out a meat grinder attachment for the Kitchen Aid and googling the directions. Word of advice, youngins, if you are actively seeking marital discord, we recommend that you either hang wall paper together in your living room or you figure out how to use a directionless meat grinder. Guaranteed acrimony. You’re welcome.
Tonight, for reasons that are unclear to me, we went into a serious jag of Tears for Fears, a band that was big when Phil and I were in college together. The dancing in “Mad World” always makes us think of our friend, Scott. For reasons that are unclear to me, when Phil did his rendition of that dance, I was rolling on the floor laughing and Ben was enraged. How does one in Ben’s position dissent? You turn off all the lights and say it’s time for bed. Joke’s on you, Ben. You went to bed and we watched the full battery of 1980s videos. We’re not foolin’ around.