Close to kicking the bucket

Greg is trying to kill me…

I think.

I bruised my wrist yesterday during tae kwon do, so Greg planned to make a gourmet dinner for me last night. We went to the grocery store to pick up the ingredients. Greg had written eggs on our list.

“Greg, we already have 11 eggs in our refrigerator,” I said. “Do you need more than 11 eggs?”
“Yeah, I know we have a lot, but I’m going to be using seven eggs,” he said.
“Seven?” I screeched in disbelief. “What are you making? You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

Whenever Greg makes dinner, the recipe invariably involves large quantities of eggs, butter, cheese, or heavy cream. Greg insists these foods are good for us. I agree that these foods can be good for us, but only in very small amounts. Greg decided that he would make a different dessert that would be healthier.

When we got home, Greg prepared a great meal. His dessert — a creme brulee sort of dish — did involve a couple eggs, but not seven. When we finished dinner, I noticed that we hadn’t eaten anything with raspberries, which were one of the ingredients we bought at the store.

“Greg, what were the raspberries for?” I asked.

“Oh, I forgot,” Greg said. “When I decided to make the new dessert, I forgot to cross the ingredients for the other dessert off the list, so I will still have to make that one tomorrow.”

So we’re finishing off the weekend with 12 fewer eggs and two fewer sticks of butter than we started it with. My poor heart is barely pumping blood through my clogged arteries. But I must go now. Greg just served up a piece of lemon tart.