“Is it hot enough?” I asked my wife who was standing at the kitchen counter eating some re-heated penne with vodka sauce left over from last night’s dinner.
“Yup,” she answered as she put another piece of penne in her mouth.
“Are you going to just stand there?”
“Yup,” she answered again.
“I can’t believe you’re eating again.”
I couldn’t believe it. We’d had a huge lunch less than five hours earlier and in the past hour my wife had consumed a container of left-over salad from the same Italian dinner, spoon after spoon of German potato salad directly out of its container from the deli and a bunch of grapes. And now the penne. It was a wonder that she wasn’t in the emergency room at the nearest hospital both from the quantity and the assortment.
I, on the other hand, was still so full from lunch that I wondered if I would ever eat again.
“I’ve had enough,” my wife announced, leaving about six pieces of penne in the bowl which our dog happily finished off.
We watched television for the next several hours and at midnight my wife suddenly disappeared.
I looked in the kitchen and there she was, standing at the counter eating a ham sandwich.
“I got hungry,” she announced.
I went back to the living room to watch TV.