Apparently when you break up with a beef grader, the local supermarket stops carrying beef altogther. Well, no, not exactly, but when I went to the market on Sunday, they were quite low on most every kind of beef. I had to improvise for the stew meat on my list and, unsure of what substitutions I might make for his mysterious recipe, I told Flash I'd get the steak he had added to the list later in the week when the market might have restocked it's coolers with a few more options.
After an ortho appointment last night, I suggested we stop at the market across town to get what else he needed for KICK'N this week. I picked up the spinach I had forgotten from the list (also one of his items) and met him back at the checkout where he appeared with a huge piece of london broil, which, according to him, was the only thing they had that "will do" for the recipe he's working off of. I gave him a short speech about how he'd better not ruin this meal for the all it was costing me.
Today when I got to school, I opened the back door to get my school work from the backseat to find the grocery bag still in the car. Let me clarify, the ginormous steak I bought last night at the store, had spent the night in the vehicle, not the refrigerator. The boychild had never taken his groceries into the house.
416 weeks of waiting and 12 hours of spoiling. Sigh. I know there was a ton of steak, but I didn't realize we were inviting maggots to dinner this week.