No more ouchies.
After yesterday, my confidence was a bit downtrodden. I mean, canned asparagus? Really? Thanks a ton for the ball slap in a can, Cassie.
Three more cans lingered in the box, and none of them were particularly pleasing to the eye; however, one really stood out from the others. It was large and in charge, apparently the result of two cans joined at the hip (lid? lip? shoulder? nose?). I’ll be honest, I was terrified of it.
Reluctantly, I decided that if it would end me, let it be on a weekend. Reading the directions written on the top can, I cracked it open. I recognized the beefy scent wafting through the air. While it microwaved, I opened the other. As soon as a noodle was barely seen, I remembered what my opponent had told me before about her distaste for baby corn.
I had been given cans to make beef chow mein (Dinty Moore beef? Definitely chow mein or stir fry in a can for the larger one). ROCK.
As most anyone could tell you, I have no problem at all with Americanized Chinese food. Hell, most of the time, I don’t even need a fork. Just slide me some chopsticks and we’re good to go!
And good to go we are. As I type this, I’m already halfway through the total of those two combined. I give myself 5, maybe 10 more minutes and I’ll be done with all of the contents of both cans.
No sweat on my brow, kiddo.