Slept In

I slept in until 12.20, it was lovely. A certain person wasn’t as pleased about it as I was.

“You sleep the day away.”

Really? I thought. I was just having a bit of a lie in… and it was nice.

Sam made Chinese pancakes, infused with spring onion. They are funny things. They are well kneaded dough, more than batter. They are rolled and kneaded and rolled and kneaded and rolled and kneaded and rolled again. Then they are fried in a pan, rather than batter poured in to cook. 

I’m a happy contented little home body, but Sam feels the need to head out doors and achieve something.

He dragged us out the door for a walk at, what I thought was about 13.30, only to be corrected by an exasperated Sam who told me it was 16.30, with wide eyes and “that look.”

“13.30? How can it be 13.30 when you didn’t get up until after twelve?”

He’s gorgeous, my boyfriend.

We bought ice creams in Lygon Street. It was Sam’s suggestion, I swear. He had Durian. I had strawberry and passion fruit.

The sun was shining in Lygon Street and the many punters were happy there. We sat at some out door tables and watched the world walk by.

“I had to get you out of the house for fresh air.”

“We should have gone bike riding…”

“We’re walking instead.”

We walked to Swanston Street and passé the uni and all the fresh faced students mingling about. We walked down Elgin with it’s view into the heart of Fitzroy. I suddenly wanted to go to a movie at Nova, you know, for the afternoon, it was only 17.30. It seemed like the perfect thing to do on a lazy Saturday afternoon. But, we’d only had the Chinese pancakes as our sustenance for the day and Sam had shifted mentally to food mode.

I stepped sideways at Drummond Street, as though I was going to a movie, just out of Sam’s sight, who kept walking down Elgin Street.

I waited and waited and waited for him to come back, but he didn’t. I can out-wait the best of them, if need be, but my enthusiasm began to wane, I can be determined, but so can Sam. And I didn’t want it to get into childish pig headedness and it to turn nasty, stupidly, so I relented.

Sam was no where in sight. Then I saw him far down the street with his jumper tied around his waist. He was glancing back, although I’m sure he was trying to convey the opposite impression, because he seemed to spot me and sat down.

“Why didn’t you want to see a movie?”

“I’m hungry.”

“You’re hungry?”

“I’m hungry!”

“Oh.”

“When will you understand that you don’t get between me and my food?”

I bowed and did my best Sale of the Century model arm swish in the direction Mr Crankypants wanted to head.

It was an emergency food situation, as Sam would often label it. So we headed straight to Woollies. We were going to head down Brunswick Street to look at the ingredients in the shop with the hot potato boy, however, any deviation at this point was now considered off limits.

We bought the ingredients for baked potatoes. It cost $22 – why I mention this will become clear. If that made one meal of baked potatoes, we wondered if it was, in fact, worth it, as we walked home? That’s about the same cost as shop bought potatoes.

We made two huge serves of baked potatoes, we thought, as we looked down at the two large bowls sitting on the coffee table. In fact, we probably could have halved them. We, in fact, didn’t manage to finish both, there were potato bodies left over, but still, potatoes are cheap.

You know, you can put everything through the supermarket self service as potatoes.

The thinking at my place is that buying take away is cheaper than cooking for oneself at home. It always seems to cost more to shop at the supermarket than buying a simple meal for two.

The dissenting voice is that the quantities are the key. Buying all the ingredients may cost more than buying for two, but that is only because the quantities purchased will usually make more like six serves than two and there will probably be leftovers for lunch the next day.