So, it's that time of the week again when I send out gratitude for some of the seemingly insignificant things in my life that I sometimes take for granted. If you feel that you've read this sentence before, it's because you have - here. I end up doing this often, not because I plan to, but because I get reminders every now and then. Reminders from "life", if I try to sound deep. And this week, I got two such reminders. So keep watching this space for my next entry into the Gratitude Journal tag.
Yesterday, due to an emergency at 22 Nelson Street (more on that in the next post), The Husband was forced to leave work early and come to my rescue. And like most of his "work from home" days, he happily munched on snacks, and endlessly stared at his stupid computer screen. We had a movie scheduled for later in the evening and since it was a regular working day, we booked a show that gave us enough of a window to squeeze in dinner before the movie. But since The Husband had been home anyway, we had the flexibility to decide when we wanted to go out. The reasonable adult in the relationship suggested that we stick to the plan and have dinner before the movie. The Husband, who had been munching away all day, suggested that we eat after. I made the mistake of caving in to his whining and ended up roaming the streets in the middle of the night, searching for some place that would serve us decent food. The satisfaction of being able to say "I told you so." for the hundredth time was all that kept me going. Also, be sure to watch "In the Heart of the Sea". I don't want to spoil anything, but it's been a while since I watched such an amazing movie.
After getting kicked out of some of the places we loved (because most kitchens closed by 10 p.m and they only served drinks for the rest of the night), we had to settle for either KFC or McDonald's (which stay open 24*7). The Husband chose KFC after much whining and complaining, because he and his Food Nazi friends always eat high off the hog and look down upon regular places that simple folks (like my friends and I) don't mind eating at. I rolled my eyes so hard that I think I saw my brain. It got worse when the food arrived.
"Is it just me or is this chicken stale?"
"I'm sure this has not been shoved into the microwave. You know why? Because it's cheaper to run an oven all day. This is straight from the oven."
"Do you know why the smaller pieces of chicken don't taste so bad? Because they go into the oven simultaneously with the bigger pieces, and lesser the surface area, more the blaaaah."
"There's a science behind everything, love. Sometimes you just don't want to hear the truth."
When the science-rant began, I knew I had to say something other than "STAHP!!". So I went with, "How dare we complain about this food? Did you see the poor homeless man who has very smartly positioned himself right outside this restaurant so that we feel bad about not giving him food? Aren't we lucky to have found this place in the middle of the night because you chose to eat after the movie? Blah blah blah blah blah?"
And he shut up. And I did my victory dance.
And because my eyes are bigger than my stomach, I always manage to order too much food. It worked out well in the end because this time around, instead of making The Husband eat my leftovers, I could give the homeless man all of my untouched food and stop feeling guilty.
So this brings me to the realization that I'm truly blessed and lucky to be able to fall asleep with a full stomach every night. I send out many, many thanks for this privilege and blessing, and promise to continue making The Husband shut up whenever he goes on a rant about "the science" behind things. Although that's not the point here.