There was an answer to meme I stumbled on last week sometime. The original statement was something like marriage is asking each other over and over what's for dinner and just getting takeout every time. The answer I saw was that single life is trying to think of what to cook and then eating popcorn for dinner instead. Well, I guess I eat like a single person. I'm making a concerted effort to use up the aging staples from my pantry and overstuffed freezer. I wandered around this evening, looking for something to make for dinner on my own (The Mr had meetings all afternoon and evening), found rotten potatoes to throw out, and then had popcorn for dinner. I'm an adult.
Actually, that was another one I ran across in the last few days, a woman discussing the infantalization of millennials and the transition to using "adult" as a verb taking away its seriousness. It seems to be the universal struggle, trying to decide when you get to think of yourself as an adult, when the impostor syndrome goes away. Most of the time I believe I've long since passed those moments of doubt, but nights like this make me still wonder if I'm doing it right.
So, for absolutely no reason at all, I discovered that the way to make a slighty bitter, cheap, Kirkland côtes de Provence wine palatable was to add ginger ale to it. Took some fiddling to get the right ratio. Turns out, my beverage tastes can sometimes be even less sophisticated than my food choices.
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