Saturday, May 11, 2013

What Time Is It?

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."


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