THE SCENE: My kitchen, 7:30 at night. I have just returned from work.
SPOUSAL UNIT: Honey? I rode my bike to work today and I'm really hungry.
CUE MUSIC: (spy action thriller theme, with "time emphasis")
SPOUSAL UNIT: And I'm going to take the dog out for a walk now.
ME (puts pot of water on to boil, then runs to cookbooks and starts pulling them from the shelf): Lessee - Swedish meatballs? What the heck are those, anyway? The Grange cookbook ... uh, no, too much cream of yick soup ... no, no noodles in that one ... Elephant stew? Is that a joke? Oh, yeah. "Feeds 3000." Weird. Huh ... do I have any of these ingredients?
ME (runs to fridge and starts digging frantically): When did THAT expire? Why is there cheese here? Hey, look, sour cream ... unopened ... and it looks (removes foil triumphantly) ... GREAT! Ew, not so much for that tomato. Didn't I buy that in August?
ME (returns to cookbooks): So no ... no ... hmmm ... Joy of Cooking ... no ... maybe if I ... where is that Hungarian cookbook? Let's see ... lard, but I could use butter ... fresh tomatoes, well, that's not happening, but there's canned ... and the sour cream, got that ... onions, of course ... and maybe some of the frozen bell pepper mix ... uh, and did I forget to turn the water on?
SCENE: Back in the kitchen, forty minutes later.
SPOUSAL UNIT: Mmm, smells great, what's on!
ME: Meatballs paprikashonoff! I think I made a little too much ...
SPOUSAL UNIT (sucks down enough food for two people): Yum! Where did you say the leftovers were?