When it all hit the wall

It was settled, the menu was chosen, the date was burned in our brains. We were on the list to make a dinner for my husband's principal after their new baby came along. I would make the food, E would deliver it.  They have food restrictions. We are experts at food restrictions. It was to be gluten free. I can do gluten free with my eyes closed.

Except we forgot. As in completely forgot to bring the food. As in totally forgot to prep the food. We both dropped the ball and it made a very large thud. When E called me and revealed our mutual stupidity, all I could repeat over and over was "We are such losers." Normally Ernst doesn't let me be so hard on myself, but he agreed, we were losers.

And that is why I sprayed marinara sauce all over my piano, my Belgian rug and up the living room wall. I am so focused on making food on Tuesday and having it ready to deliver on Wednesday, that we have no food for us. The fridge is a desert, except for some lentils that are getting on my nerves. That is why my dinner tonight was a bowl of pasta sauce. No pasta, just sauce. Cold, jarred pasta sauce. Red. A big red bowl of jarred red gloppy sauce, because I'm gearing up to cook a really nice meal tomorrow and the fridge is bare. Don't feed the losers - focus on redemption - something like that.

I brought my bowl into the living room, because on top of being really bad at remembering to bring his work supervisor the meal we promised, we can't seem to keep the kitchen table clean. So into the room with my favorite rug I went. Down on the couch, grab for a magazine to read and wham! There was pasta sauce all over the coffee table and big plops of it on my rug. While I ran for some cleaner, Molly went to work. She did quite a good job licking it all up and after I washed the rug off and vacuumed, all the evidence was gone. Then I looked at the piano. And the picture on the wall. And the wall almost up to the ceiling. Man, pasta sauce can really fly. Culinary redemption doesn't come without a price.