Steve's Dinner vs. My Dinner

As I pulled into the driveway from Jazzercise tonight, the grill was out and I knew a good meal was on it's way.

Not only did Steve come outside and "escort" me inside, but an entire meal with all four food groups was waiting for me plated and all.

As we were eating, I mentioned to Steve that I felt really good after dinner last night because I felt like I made and served dinner for us (for once).

It's too bad my meal consisted of heating up pasta in the microwave that was a mixture of his mom and my pasta from dinner Friday night from an Italian restaurant.

It's also too bad that even after pushing 1:00 over and over, the pasta was still a little cold when I served it.

And it's really too bad that Steve ate it, smiled and thanked me for the meal. And then he thanked me again 24-hours later.

If I knew how to cook, I would probably feel bad, because Steve really does take the majority of the burden when it comes to cooking and grocery shopping.

But I can't cook, I don't like to cook and I don't enjoy going to the grocery store. But I'm apparently very good at setting low expectations since warmed-up (but still cold) pasta that was once eaten by two different people gets me two thank you's from my husband.