I am sitting on the orange couch, balancing a bowl of soup on my leg. Self plops herself down heavily next to me, almost spilling contents of said bowl onto freshly laundered yoga pants.
Me: Heh! Waw -ih!
Self: Ooh. Sorry. I’m exhausted! You know I have been wide awake since 1 o’clock this morning?!
Me: Mee oo.
Self: Oh right. Yeah. [looks sidelong at Me.] Hey. Why are you talking like that?
Me: I bunt mah hung.
Self: What’s that?
Me: I BUNT MAH HUNG. Onna soup.
Self: You burnt your tongue, you say.
Self: Ouch. Sucks. Is it good at least? The soup?
Me: I own no.
Self: Why not?
Me: I cann hase it.
Self: Mind if I try?
Me: Go ahead.
[picking up bowl and stirring contents.]
Self: What is this? Glue? It looks like snot, Gina.
Me: Sir it!
Self: I am stirring it. What’s…what is this? Noodles? Are these shell pastas? They’re the smallest pastas I’ve ever seen. And they’re…all…stuck…together. … Are they even cooked?
Me: Sorry. I led it boil over.
Self: I guess you did. And then you ate this?
Me: Yeah. But I bunt my hung.
Self: So I see. Where’d you get it?
Me: The store.
Self: Let me guess. It’s soup in a bag.
Self: What else is new. [shaking her head in shame.] Gina, Gina, Gina. You can’t cook soup in a bag? It’s soup. In. A. BAG. for crying out loud. All you had to do was open, pour, and stir.
Me: I forgot to stir.
Self: No kidding. [still stirring] Seriously… This is like trying to stir a brick.
Me: I forgot to stir! I was on the phone!
Self: What, for like an eon? It’s petrified already! Look, there’s little tomato and chive fossils. You actually ate this?
Me: I was hungry!
Self: You don’t have a knife or anything, do you? Seems like I could cut the soup and turn it into some kind of building material right now.
Me: Shut up.
Self: No? No knife? A screwdriver then? Maybe a jackhammer?
Me: Are you finished?
Self: Honestly. I have never seen anyone screw up water and vegetables quite like you do. [shaking head, whispering under her breath] Open. Pour. Stir.
Me: So I won’t cook for you anymore.
Self: Honey, I don’t know whether that makes me feel sorry for you or happy for me. But I’ll stick with happy for me.
Me: I told you. I was on the phone. With Dennis. Grant me that.
Self: Open. Pour. Stir. That’s all you had to do.
Self: That’s all I’m saying.