Again, I hate to cook. It takes to much time to fix, it's not that great, and then there's a mess to clean up. So unrewarding. I admit I got myself and my family in a teribble habit of eating out or bringing in. I'm sure this is one reason for our bellies spilling over our waist bands. However, we have been doing much much better over the past year abought eating at home.
With so many capable people in our household we have divided up the "make dinner chore". Bret has Sunday, Monday - Ashley, Tuesday - Cindy, Wednesday - grabits (basically leftovers - you better grabit before it's gone), Thursday - Boys, Friday - Whoever feels like it, Saturday - you better take me out.
Last Thursday, TJ didn't feel like cooking so he ordered pizza. He did save himself the delivery charge and the cost of the tip by picking it up himself. When he returned home he said, "It took me three hours to make dinner tonight!" I thought he was being sarcastic since it took him no more than five minutes to pick up what he had phone in. Then he explained that he had to work three hours just to pay for the pizza and wings.
I guess that a fast dinner isn't really fast after all. I hadn't thought of it that way before. Maybe I'm slow.
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