Dinner

Dinner.

I just hate it.

No one is ever satisfied.

Syrian children - they would appreciate it.  Not mine.  There is wailing and gnashing of teeth like I am trying to feed them shoe leather or cats brains.

So here it is 5:50 pm I don't know what I will make.

I will drag my feet until I admit if I don't feed them soon I can't make them go to bed.
Of course I feel guilty about this. Because it is part of my job requirement.

Stay at home moms should cook for their family.
Everyone else is doing what their job requires of them. Right? But I am a slacker.
An uninspired slacking cook and I know it.
Maybe fresh zucchini will fix it but there is none yet and I am pretty sure it will only last for about 2 of them.

I think once upon a time I liked cooking. I don't know what happened. The Everyday Food magazine stopped publication. The fatigue of trying to get little people to eat mere morsels of anything new.

The work, the expense, the time, the clean-up, the dis-gratitude.

All the cooking shows in the world and I don't think I can be motivated to salt my chicken the night before. Or even figure out what we will eat the day before.

Perhaps this is just indicative to the pervasiveness of slow rot in every area of my life.

Maybe if I could root out the rot the inspiration would come back.

And I wouldn't hate...

Dinner.