I can’t cook

I think that if I wasn’t married, I’d starve.

The other day I decided to have some fish sticks. Fish sticks. Just stick em in the oven for a few minutes and eat them. I put them in, then came back later to find them rock-hard. Overcooked. The french fries I made with them were undercooked. I ate them anyway.

This afternoon I had soup. Soup is ok. I can cook soup. You can’t undercook or overcook soup. It’s either cold or you have to let it cool. No problem.

Tonight I decided to finish off the fish sticks. Having learned my lesson, I cooked them alone, without the french fries. I read the directions and put them in the oven for a little less time than the box suggested. I even set a timer.

The timer went off and I noticed a funny smell. Smoke filled the kitchen. The fish sticks were completely charred. At this point I considered going to Wendy’s. No, I can cook something. Searching through the cabinet again, I found some Rice-A-Roni that Anne doesn’t want to eat. Yes, I can cook rice. ($191.00??)

Browned the rice OK, then went to add the “special beef seasoning” (i.e. miscellaneous animal parts ground into powder) and the bag exploded, most of it on the floor and on my clothes. It seemed to cook ok after that. It was at least edible. Lacking in flavor for obvious reasons, but edible.

Next time, it’s Wendy’s or soup. Or maybe I should just go pick up a sack of Bachelor Chow. I wonder if they make Wife-is-Out-of-Town chow?

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