I live with my step-sister and her boyfriend, and we do a pretty good job of being a happy little family. We take turns cooking dinner, and Wednesday is my night. I love to cook and I love to plan, so I was planning on cooking a roast chicken dinner with potatoes, onions, and carrots. I was even going to make gravy with the drippings! So I took the bus to the grocery store on my way home from work today and picked up a chicken. When I got home from work, my roommate opened the door for me wearing a jacket.
“Are you leaving or arriving?” I asked.
“Leaving. [Other roommate] and I are going on a date.”
“Oh. Ah, okay.”
I didn’t say anything else because I didn’t want to seem like I was shitting on their date night, but I’m bummed and a little pissed. It would’ve been so easy for them to e-mail or call me and let me know they weren’t going to be home for dinner. And they were literally on their way out the door; if I’d come home a minute later, I wouldn’t’ve known where they were or when they were(n’t) coming home. Now it seems silly to cook a whole chicken for myself, but on the other hand I need leftovers to take to work for lunch tomorrow. Meh. I guess I’ll throw something together for tonight and tomorrow. Then I’ll brine the chicken overnight and make the person who’s supposed to cook dinner tomorrow give up their turn to me.
“You’ll let me roast a chicken with fresh herbs and vegetables, and you’ll LIKE it! Or else!” threatens roommate with gravy bowl
Yeah, that’ll show 'em.