There was a day when I cooked and cleaned. That was the day that we moved into our first apartment as newlyweds. Things went downhill from there.
I used to love to cook. (Cleaning and I have never had a love affair.) I made everything from scratch. My kids didn't know that you could buy cookies until I introduced them to the goodness of Oreos. I invented new dishes (admittedly, that was never my forte), I enjoyed making healthy meals for the family, I even grew a garden and canned it's bounty so that we could eat home-grown goodness through the lean winter months. There was little that I didn't do. One of my most fun things to do was bake bread. I was truly a freak.
And then I had kids. Many of them. And the older they got, the more verbal they became. Things they loved last week were suddenly poison-infused this week and there was no way they were going to eat that. Mostly because Friend So-And-So's mom made box mac-n-cheese and it was far superior to my cheesy homemade offerings. I got so frustrated that I quit cooking from scratch.
The last few years have been rather lean in our home. We frequently have "find it yourself" nights here. It's sad, really. But my evil plan is working because Becky is now becoming quite a little chef, and is enjoying it.
Today I got a call from the propane company. They were following up on clients with unused tanks to see if they could reclaim them.
Ummmm, we use our tanks.
You normally go through a tank a year, and it's been 2 years since your last fill-up. I thought maybe you weren't using them any longer.
Huh. Apparently I don't' cook as often as I should.
Nothing like a random stranger calling you out.