I Wish.

Last night after work, I stopped at Cub to pick up some groceries. While I was bagging them, the guy on the other side of the lane leaned over and in a scruffy smoker voice said, “looks like you’re going home to make a nice dinner for someone…”

“I wish,” I responded, and sheepishly chuckled.

“Yeah, I know what you mean…” said the 50+ haggard smoker man. Ho-hum.

I just smiled, continued bagging my groceries, and then walked out thinking how funny that interaction was. I could’ve easily replied with just a smile, or a quick “yep,” but instead, “I wish.”  Wah-waaahhh, I have no one to cook for (not even myself, if you know me well). Sad. Lonely. Poor me.  Not that I actually think that about myself, it just came across that way. And then, to add insult to injury, once I got home I realized that since I was probably trying to leave quick as to not get into further conversation with that guy (or just still laughing to myself about how funny it was), I forgot my bag of ice in the store. Dang!

I did make homemade cinnamon french toast for myself last night (for the first time ever), and it was actually really good. I think I’m going to start trying to cook more. Maybe some chicken tonight. Yum.

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