I thought these posts could be amusing, trying to make light of things that annoy me, or terrify me. But it has come to my attention the world is against me.
Today was suppose to be a sweet day.
Today was suppose to be a nice day.
Today…I taught my husband how to make meatloaf.
For once, he accepted my pleas of cooking with me. For once, I had my husband’s interest in a topic, he normally wouldn’t take a second glance to.
And for the first time ever, in years since I’ve made meatloaf…I lost over half of my meatloaf in the trash.
I can hear the gasps of the audience now.
So it began with the basics, I read the recipe to him. Held my tongue when he lightly tapped the egg against the bowl, and it didn’t crack.
My mind, “WHACK THAT THING AGAINST THE BOWL! YOU GOT THIS!”
My words, “Uhhh.”
Somehow the egg miraculously opened of its own accord. I swear, there was no cracking sound involved.
We had reached the liquid part to bind the ingredients. To which my dear husband, with shock in his eyes, “That measuring cup is for DRY ingredients,” he scolds me as I hand him a 1/4 cup.
Shaking my head at him, “What are we, Home Economics?! I think not,” I scoff. Trying to withhold the horrible memories of past cooking classes in middle school.
Hamburger is last, and he successfully molded his little loaf in the pan. Setting it aside, he left. It was my turn now. I was planning on making two loaves for leftovers.
(Are you holding a chuckle under your breath?
Mine’s more like a sob.)
Quickly, I mixed up my loaf and placed both in the oven. All was fine, till it was time to pour out the excess grease.
His was perfect. Stayed together, no issues at all. He was so proud that he even took a picture of his FINISHED meatloaf after it was covered in a tangy barbecue sauce. Taking a second quick snap with his camera, he ran quickly out of the kitchen.
I was to later find out, he compared his finished product to my barely out of the oven loaf. THE NERVE!
Laughing lightly at his antics, I carefully tipped my loaf pan over towards the trash can when all of a sudden…
My meatloaf stares back at me, now not in the cozy corner of the loaf pan, but in the center of my TRASH CAN!!
A true visual of blowing chunks, cascading driplets covering the sides of the trash bag.
I look with horror at what has happened. Anger, annoyance, and impending hunger feed into my utter DOOM of a disaster!
Dear husband, who hears my cry of help, “What happened?”
“MY MEATLOAF WENT INTO THE TRASH!”
Peals of laughter echo against the walls, “I guess that means I WIN!” Since he has to make EVERYTHING a competition.
Silence returns as my answer. Still staring into the abyss of what consumed my work of art.
Now every time I go on social media…his picture of my not so perfected meatloaf haunts me. Because apparently, that was when it was at its best.
I suppose there is a lesson in this.
(Check out my main blog, Inside Cup, here)