Apparently, Carole had a whole conversation with me this morning about what we were having for tea.
I remember none of it. Apart from a discussion about whether or not I had eaten a quiche. Which I had. I ate the quiche to console myself while I was left alone as everyone went to see Take That. That’s the only bit of the conversation I remember.
She even shouted up the stairs before she left, “I’ve got the chicken out to defrost!” but my brain couldn’t comprehend any of it.
So when I woke up I text her to ask what was for tea and just got mocked for not remembering any of the conversation. Which Carole clearly had with me while I was fast asleep.
So the chicken was for Carole, as she’s doing Slimmer’s World and can fill up on meat to her heart’s content. I was no closer to working out what I wanted.
And then Carole suggested hot dogs. And I do enjoy a hot dog now and again. And, I’ll be honest, I was quite looking forward to them. Carole said she’d pick some up on the way home. And all would be good.
I knew I wasn’t getting any hot dogs. I knew because I wasn’t sent pictures of every tin, jar and packet of hot dogs available on the supermarket shelves. Pictures upon which I would have to choose my preference of meat stick because they are outside of Carole’s comfort zone.
I enjoyed the irony of it, to be honest. Because I forgot an entire conversation because I was unconscious during it. Carole just forgot an entire conversation because she’s forgetful. And stressed about things at work. But mainly forgetful.
But I did not mock her.
I just sat, hungrily, not eating hot dogs.
She did buy me a Freddo though, which was nice. It almost made up for the lack of hot doggery. And I was jonesing for a bit of a chocolate fix.
And then asked if she could eat it…