My husband and I both work in Worthington, and our home is about 25 miles away in Avoca. Which means we ended up trapped in Worthington Monday when the roads closed because of the winter storm yuckiness.
I called up my buddy Jill Lutterman and asked her is she was in the mood for company for the night. She graciously opened her home to us, and we spend a quiet evening with her and her daughter.
In the midst of this quiet evening, we had called to let our son know we wouldn’t be home. He is 17 years old, so I wasn’t concerned about leaving him alone. Until he called back later asking for directions to cook steak.
Any other teenager in the world would be content with leftovers or a box of macaroni and cheese, but Matt decided to pull some venison from the freezer and broil steaks for himself.
“You said I did it wrong last time,” he said over the phone.
Yep. He did this one other time, on a night that I would be coming home, just late. And didn’t save me any, either. He didn’t exactly do it wrong, just did it the hard way, so I told him how to thaw the venison and broil it.
Oh well, at least he is self-sufficient. And since Jill made a great batch of spaghetti for us that was absolutely wonderful, I won’t begrudge the kid a venison steak or two.
But it is kind of funny.