We took Stephanie out for a birthday meal at one of her favourite restaurants. Fabulous meal, as is usual for that establishment, but I’d like to get my hands on the person who made the coffee I had to finish off the meal. I knew that it was strong as it took four creamers to whiten a smallish cup sufficiently for my palate. But I didn’t realize just how strong until the caffeine high kicked in. Yikes!! Stephanie wanted to stop at a video store after, so off they drove … and I walked … by choice … at speed! Then it was off to the mall, so that she could pick up a couple of coveted items with her birthday money. If you happened to be there and glimpsed a black-clad blur zipping past, it was just me. If you happened to be in the household linens department at Sears and saw a black-clad woman twitching like a mad thing, that was me, too.
The palpatations and obvious twitching have ceased, but I’m certainly wide awake still. Looks like Richard won’t have to make his own breakfast come morning. But maybe it will be a good thing if he has some company. Then he can take the right container of food to work to reheat for his lunch. Yesterday he hit the staff room, ravenous enough to chew a leg off a table. He sauntered over to the microwave and opened his container, expecting the heady aroma of left-over Sunday shepherd’s pie to waft up his nostrils. Nuh uh. Instead he was greeted by exceedingly bland left-over Saturday plain boiled potatoes. Oh dear. The disappointment was such that he ditched the spuds and went through the day on a small kiwi fruit and a bran muffin.
Needless to say, we hit the restaurant for the birthday meal a bit earlier than planned. And there wasn’t a scrap of edible stuff left on any of the three plates when the waitress collected them at the end of the meal. Nor was there the usual martyr act about not ordering the biggest steak on the menu for the sake of economy. It was ordered, attacked with gusto, and disappeared at record speed. As did the various varieties of shrimp that Stephanie slipped onto his plate, and the chunk of stuffed sole and a couple of shrimp off mine. He made the obligatory protests about taking food out of our mouths, but I noted that they were quite feeble protests and he hesitated for all of a second before tucking into the seafood morsels. I also noted that he didn’t offer to share a little chunk of his steak with me, as is his habit. I don’t like steak well enough to order a whole one for myself, but I do enjoy swapping a bit of my usual chicken or seafood for a taste of his beef. Hmph, I feel so deprived now.
So, perhaps I shouldn’t be so quick to point out the container of shepherd’s pie, after all. He who doesn’t share his steak probably deserves the container of left-over cauliflower instead. What do you think? 🙂