Last week when I was convalescing from every ailment known to womankind. OK, not every ailment but more than my fair share. During my recovery my husband took the helm.
He cooked, he cleaned (at least I think he cleaned, it’s hard to tell here) and he herded children. All the while he was working and going to school full time too. He’s a good guy that Valentine of mine.
And of course he procured groceries. Grocery shopping isn’t my beloved’s best thing.
It wasn’t until Monday morning that I grasped the complete extent of Ken’s grocery procurement when I found this in the cupboard-
A whole lot of rice, 2 kilograms of parboiled rice. I don’t even know what parboiled means. And 2 kg, we eat rice twice a month, at best and then usually brown rice in small servings. I usually buy the little bags and they last 2 months, at least.
I had to know more.
Me: Ken did you buy this massive rice?
Him: Ya, it was on sale.
Me: That’s a lot of rice, I think we already have rice. (I’m totally laughing now because I’ve taken the bag out of the cupboard and the ridiculousness of the huge bag demands laughing)
Him: It’s good for me when you are away. And it was on sale.
Me: I need to go away for 6 years for you to eat that much rice.
Him: Well if there’s an oil crisis or something we’re covered.
Me: Or that. What does parboiled mean?
Him: I dunno, where does it say that?
Me: I am going away and leaving you to eat rice.
If you find yourself suffering from a rice shortage, come on over.
I am back on my feet now and ready to get back to work. But…uhm… there’s a mess. Again.
It’s Wednesday good people, link up for the crazy photo phun.