Helpless

I go to work no more than an hour after Miguel gets home two days a week. On those days, I usually prepare a meal that I can put in the oven or on the stove before I leave and which Miguel simply has to turn off and serve. Today, however, I prepared a meatloaf (which only needed time in the oven) and left instructions for making mashies (with pre-peeled and -cut potatoes already in a pot of water on the stove) and heating the corn. After reviewing the instructions with him, I went off to work, sure he was capable of following such simple instructions.

When I arrived home, I made the usual inquiries -- how was Angie, did she eat well, was she a good girl, how was dinner, etc.. Everything was lovely, he commented, except the potatoes were kind of dry and he'd had to put butter on them to make them taste good.

"I forgot about the gravy," I exclaimed. Then, "You could have pulled a can of gravy from the cabinet and heated it."

He gave me a bewildered and sheepish look, a cross between "Why would I do that?" and "Oh, I should have thought of that."

He often chides me for lacking simple common sense, but this time, it was my turn to shake my head.

Next time, I'll be more attentive to details!