Cooking without Megan

In what can only be described as a story to challenge the "how to light a candle..." story, I tried to cook today. Megan is gone and while Norm prodded me to go to the grocery store I just couldn't quite convince myself to do that when I still had edible things in the house so.....

I began by boiling water....good start

then I got a box of pasta....also good

then I put the pasta in the water....now we were getting somewhere

Then I noticed a can of chicken broth and it dawned on me....chicken noodle soup....genius!!!

Well I have peas also...I've seen peas in chicken noodle soup and I know they put peas in chicken pot pie....so maybe a bit risky but what the hell...I dumped a can of peas into the chicken broth that was heating up while my noodles were cooking....so far still doing all right.

Then it happened, in a startling twist of fate I noticed the can of tuna...and in my cooking genius state of mind that I was in it only seemed logical....tuna is a pretty basic plain meat, sort of has chicken texture. Surely if I put this in the pot with the peas and chicken broth it will end up tasting like chicken.....and so it began.

In all my cooking glory I rinsed and dumped the tuna into the pot as well....

Have you ever gone to the ocean and gotten out of the car and thought...geez what a horrible dead fish smell and you wait for your nostrils to adjust?...imagine all that fun but without the sand and surf and seashells. Just the smell. The horrible, something just puked up something rotten that had eaten a poisoned fish carcass smell. And you don't adjust.

It was so pungent I thought well maybe if I put the noodles into the pot anyway it will help...and I unceremoniously dumped the ill fated noodles into the liquid stench.

Poor noodles.

Well at this point I had put so much effort toward this meal that by golly I was going to eat it so I poured a heaping helping into a bowl topped it with plenty of butter and salt, the logic behind this action will not even attempt to be explained at this point, and I ate it.

Most of it anyway.....

Okay some of it.

In truth it didn't taste quite like the impending death the smell promised but it was that smell that I just could not escape. By the time you smell it in the bowl and then the spoon there is no way I was going to convince my mouth that it was a worthy addition to the contents of my stomach.

Bo was thrilled.

I ate spaghetti.

Please come home Megan.