Late on Friday afternoons, the employees of my office get together for the most important meeting of the week: lunch planning meeting. We like to plan what we will eat at lunch the next week. But, it is also a moment to relax together, be silly, and prepare ourselves for the coming weekend. (Plus, we fix much better lunches in the office than anything we can buy in this stinkin' town.)
This week, we had planned menus that looked like this:
Monday: ESK would bring in corned beef and cabbage left over from her St. Patrick's Day feasting.
Tuesday: I would bring in left over corned beef and the makings for reuben sandwiches (from my St. Patrick's Day feasting)
Wednesday: ESK would bring in grilled chicken breast, I would bring in chopped Greek salad with lemon/oregano dressing and The Tall One would bring in pitas and feta cheese. We figured, with my habits, we'd have enough for two days of Greek salad.
Friday: Go out or order Thai food. mmmmm spicy thai wings.
All of this was sounding quite easy and yummy when The Tall One asked "where do I find pita and feta?" We thought she was joking. And she said that she hasn't been to a grocery store since moving to this town 6 MONTHS AGO. We were agog. We asked how she eats. She said that she gives her roommate money and her roommate takes care of it. She says that when she gets off work, she goes to the gym and when she gets home, dinner is waiting for her.
And then it dawned on us . . . THE TALL ONE IS A DUDE. I mean, she's a girl . . . but she has managed to outsmart the whole "girl" system and functions in her home like a dude.
We still haven't wrapped our brains around it.
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