I’ve mentioned before that cooking and I have a very tense relationship. Aside from the mess and the measuring and keeping kids out of the kitchen, everyone is a critic. No matter what I prepare, someone is bound to have a negative word to say about it. I swear, doesn’t anyone have the common decency to just lie anymore?
Last night, along with our cheese-stuffed ravioli and garlic bread, I prepared salads for J and I. Salad from a sack, I should mention. J took one bite of his lettuce and inappropriately spit it back out, declaring that it “tasted bad”. Mine tasted perfectly fine. This is the SAME salad, from the SAME sack, arranged the SAME way. They were IDENTICAL. He avoided the remainder of his like the plague, I ate every bite of mine.
I don’t know why I took offense to this, but I did. It’s not as if I made the lettuce; all I did was open a bag and pour into a bowl. If anyone has the right to be offended, it would be our nation’s proud farmers. Along with the workers at the lettuce packaging plant, who are putting in a hard day’s work just to make a few dollars so they can feed their families, keep a roof over their heads, and strive ever closer to the American Dream.
Way to go, J. Not only did you offend me, but you insulted the heart of America. Next time, just eat the damn salad already.