I came to Jeff the other night with my brow furrowed.
"Why do you look so concerned?" he asked me
It was because I wanted something, I told him. I wanted something ridiculous and indulgent. And I wanted him to say yes to it.
I did not want a new pair of shoes.
I did not even want that really fabulous sweater that I saw in my new Anthropologie catalogue.
I wanted dinner.
Specifically, I wanted dinner delivered.
Every single day.
I found this dinner service in our area. It's all fresh. All organic. And they deliver it to your house.
When I priced it out, I really thought that it would fit into our already established grocery budget. So I prepared myself with propaganda, furrowed my brow, and presented him with my request.
"Please, please let me just try the dinner service. I am a horrible cook. I spend all this money on groceries and we throw out every other meal and order pizza because I'm just terrible in the kitchen. I hate it. The thought of making dinner every day stresses me out from the very moment I wake up in the morning. And right now you can't cook because you get home so late and so I have no choice and I'm probably slowly poisoning us to death. I promise I'll cut coupons and scrimp on everything else to make this fit in our grocery budget just please don't make me cook anymore."
And the dinner that has been delivered to my house this week has been freaking awesome.
