Teflon Man had a night out last night. (Is it still dignified to go to a warehouse party as you approach 50? Mind you, is it ever dignified to attend a warehouse party?) Then football today. Needless to say, he was feeling a little worse for wear.
But tonight was my turn to go out. So, instead of cooking like some short-order chef to the faddy requirements of the brood, I got myself brushed up (complete with swishy new lob haircut).
Me to TM: So, what are you getting everyone for tea then?
TM (lying on the bed looking morose at the thought of having to do anything more than breathe): What have we got in?
Me: Nothing. I didn’t know what you wanted.
TM: But I’ve just been to Sainsbury’s. [For last-minute Easter eggs. Like they haven’t been in the shops since January. Nope, obviously they have to be bought as the supermarket staff clear the shelves ready for the next seasonal promotion.]
And he collapsed on the bed to snooze (despite Noodles bouncing in close proximity to his head whilst loudly singing the ABC song).
Forty minutes later, it’s 7pm and I’m ready to go out. Teflon Man has got as far as surveying the family for meal preferences to be met with resounding ambivalence. (My daily experience then. Not easy second-guessing the unexpressed desires of other people, is it, TM?) This had him back upstairs to do some more lying on the bed.
Meanwhile, downstairs, no one takes the initiative to feed themselves.
My friend knocks at the door just as Teflon Man manages to drag his sorry carcass downstairs and out the door for cheap and easy pizzas. Never mind that Boo and Noodles refuse to eat pizza. I turn the oven on for him to preheat so that everyone might get fed before midnight.
I’ve no idea how the pizzas turned out. But my meal was delicious