Sins of the Speeder

This evening I came home from work and realized I didn't have the monetary resources available to fund my dinner, thanks to my pesky driving habits, and for a good twenty minutes I ensconced myself in my yellow chair and sulked. Because I really wanted sushi.

After my allotted sulking time was complete, I wandered into the kitchen intent upon finding something of edible quality lurking within my cupboards. I didn't even open the refrigerator because I already knew exactly what was behind that off-white door: Three half-empty bottles of juice, a tub of butter, mustard, a package of frighteningly old cream cheese and a four month old apple. My cupboards weren't much better, yielding only rice, green chiles, asparagus, corn and a nine month old box of strawberry cheesecake Slim-Fast bars I bought on one of my attempts to become less 'round' and more 'svelte.' But the thing about labeling something as cheesecake when it is, in fact, a diet aid is that that no matter which way you bite it, it all tastes like congealed ass secretion with a pretty white coating of faux-chocolate. So really, my only choices were rice and asparagus.

I pulled out the pans I haven't used since my mother last came to visit and placed then on the stove, pats of butter in each one. As I was heating up the skillet for the asparagus it dawned on me that if I had a suspected mouse-friend in THAT cabinet then it was entirely possible that I had a mouse friend in THIS HERE cabinet and that I may want to reconsider cooking my food in said pans prior to disinfecting them with industrial strength Lysol and a tub full of bleach.

After pouring the already sizzling butter down the drain and scouring all surfaces of the pans with steaming hot water and antibacterial soap, I deemed my pans to be mouse-poop-germ free and resumed my cooking exercises. I steamed the rice to perfect fluffiness and warmed up that canned asparagus, touches of dill and red pepper in each, and then placed them on my shiny white plate where I ate at my shiny black table with my shiny silver utensils.

Overall, I give my meal a 4. Two points deducted for lack of protein, another two for still being paranoid about the mouse poop and two more for having to wash the fucking dishes when I was done.