It is inevitable. As inevitable as the sun coming up, or the stars coming out, or the tide doing what the tide does. Every. Fucking. Day.
Yep, I'm referring to making dinner.
It used to make me feel like a failure at my job - you know, the job of Mom. But damn do I hate feeding my family.
That sounds terrible.
I'm not sure what it is about dinner that gets me tense in a way that other things don't. Lunch doesn't really annoy me. Breakfast - I'm all over it. But dinner? Ugh. My nightmare.
The question, "what's for dinner" literally makes me feel like someone is squeezing my head in a vice. And I do mean literally. I am opposed to people who say literally stupidly. But I digress...
It's not like I can't cook. I can! I actually like to cook. I do enjoy it. I think it's the pressure to provide something great every day. Something good and tasty and healthy and like, ugh.
If I ever got a massive windfall, I think I'd hire a dinner chef. And the chef also has to clean up after himself, in my perfect world where I receive massive windfall money. Because obviously if the chef left a huge mess it would make the dinner taste a little sucky. Because that's what I'd be thinking about while I was eating my great meal. The clean up. And who wants that, in their perfect world?
Nobody. That's who.