So Paul, Jack, Charlie, and I are staying at our friends' house, the friends who got married this Sunday, and I know you may think it seems crazy that we are staying here and that we are probably more of a stress and burden than a help, but I am here to tell you that you are wrong.
So on Saturday-the day before the wedding- I was following Sam (the groom) around his house asking him if Anna (the bride) had mentioned if she needed help with anything, she wasn't home at the time, and he smiled and said "Yes. She wants you to make me lunch." I nervously smiled and said "anything you want," and he pulled a box of macaroni and cheese out of his cupboard and said "thank you, you are the best," and then went outside to work in the yard.
I stood there in the kitchen staring at the box on the counter and then to the stove and then to their pots and pans and then yelled "PAUL?" in a very forlorn and desperate voice. I heard loud laughter coming from the basement and Paul exclaimed that he was just waiting for me to call his name for help as he heard the whole conversation.
So alas, I suck at cooking and can't even make macaroni and cheese. Thank heavens for husbands that love to and know how to cook. Amen to that. I guess it is better than me trying to cook it and it ending up with shards of glass inside. (please see story "The PB&J")
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