Last night, an all too common question arose while I was in the middle of working:
What do you want to do for dinner?
Truthfully, I was feeling lazy and unmotivated to cook. The thought of heating up leftovers again for the fourth day in a row sounded miserable, but buying something when there was already food in the fridge sounded worse. In an attempt to feign enthusiasm that I hoped would be contagious, I “cheerfully” suggested having leftovers. My suggestion was met with a long pause and:
Yeah… cool, I’ll just pick up a burrito after my run.
Without the pressure of cooking for someone else, I began to throw anything that caught my eye into a pan once I got home. Sweet potatoes were softened with coconut oil before fresh mango and kale were added into the mix. A little tomato sauce, leftover roasted chicken, and an egg with lots of smoked paprika rounded out my “leftovers” meal.
When we sat down to enjoy our respective meals, I innocently offered a sample of my food. The words that followed were music to my ears:
Like it? I could eat this entire bowl!
I’ll be damned if a store-bought burrito gets chosen over my food again.*
*I may or may not have sampled the offending burrito. I may or may not have liked it… those details are irrelevant to this story.