Dating a Marine brings a whole new view to life, when you are a procratinating, disorganized mess like me. I lived so much of my adult life not being able to make plans that this whole structure thing is quite the challenge. Not a bad thing, mind you. Actually, it's a welcome change. But we hit a whole new level the other night.
Now, I'm used to his planning of the food. The man is a foodie, and he loves to cook. Add to it that he's of Eastern European descent, and it's a perfect storm, of sorts. I mean, there must be something about Eastern Europeans and food, cause the ex's grandma used to plan dinner while we were eating a huge breakfast, and Jim does the same thing. I find it amusing, especially since my plans for dinner generally include anything but cooking. It's a match made in heaven.
So the other night, we had a nice dinner, and I remarked afterward that ice cream sounded good. Jim's not a big sweets person, so I was surprised when he pulled out his Culvers' coupon and started finding us a deal. We decided on Concrete Mixers. He asked me when I was gonna go get them, and I said "right now." "What?" said the master of the house. "You can't go get it now." "Why not," I said." "Because," said he, "Ice cream is a nine o'clock snack. It's only eight o'clock."