The boyfriend has snapped. Maybe it was our diminished circumstances, our dire financial straits. Maybe the three months living here have worn him down already. I may never know the reason, but the old boyfriend, the gourmet chef who could effortlessly put together a five course meal, who's cooking rivaled the best restaurants in LA, is gone.
He called me in to dinner last night, and there before me on the table was a casserole.
A Bakersfield Casserole.
Ground beef was involved. Cream of Mushroom soup. Lots of Cream of Mushroom soup. Cheddar cheese.
And crowning it all was a golden blanket of...
Tater tots.
The most frightening thing was it wasn't half bad.
Maybe it was just a one-off, a bad day, a momentary crack. Or maybe it was a glimpse into my new "tot" based future.
Or worse.
I think I spied Cheez-Whiz in the pantry.
