Jay and I had our normal post-workout chat. Once Cleo goes off line we tend to do a debrief of the day, and more often than not the subject of the conversation turns to dinner. This was after I got my bag of peas out of the freezer and put them on my knee after overdoing it a bit.
"I don't know what's for dinner tonight." she told me.
"Chicken and salad for me."
"I might have to find some thing and put it in the air fryer. Potato cakes."
"I don't have an air fryer," I told her. "Potato cakes?"
"Yes, you can buy them at the posh supermarket. A couple of minutes in the air fryer and they come out just like the ones you get at the fish and chip shop."
"I don't need to know that. And I don't have an air fryer."
"You need an air fryer."
"No, I don't. I'm trying to de-crap my place as it is."
"You need an air fryer," she reiterated.
"No, I don't."
"I'm thinking of buying a bigger one. If I do, you can have my old, little one."
"Thank you, but I don't need an air fryer. I have an oven and pots and pans and a microwave and a Tupperware pressure cooker. Oh, and a sandwich press. I don't need an air fryer."
"Yes, you do."
When Jay gets on a roll, she keeps on it.
And I don't need to know that you can get potato cakes at the posh supermarket that taste like the potato cakes you get at the chippy. Or that you can wrap Caramilk chocolate in puff pastry and you can have something like a Caramilk Danish. Or heat up chips. Or heaven knows what.
But I do not need an air fryer.
Got it?
Really.
Despite what all of you tell me.
Today's Song:
Enchanted Map Card: Home
Archetype Card: Slave
Cards Against Humanity: What's the next Happy Meal toy? Robo-Cop.
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