Last weekend we were out doing errands all morning, including a quick stop at the grocery store. As I was hopping out of the car to run inside, S proclaimed he was starving and was going to die if he didn't eat soon. In other words he wanted chicken fingers from the prepared foods display that's placed directly in front of the store entrance. Point taken.
However, even closer to the door than the packages of hot fried chicken parts was an icebox filled with frozen-ish pizzas, on special 'cause of the afternoon's football game. I don't think I've ever bought a frozen pizza before, but S had also just mentioned he could "eat that entire pizza" as we drove past some guy walking to his car with a pizza in his hand, so I bought the pizza. Should I write that down in my diary? December something-or-other 2011 I was tired enough and so uninspired to cook that I bought a frozen pizza?
This post really isn't about a frozen pizza though. It's about the 13 minutes it took to cook that frozen pizza. Despite being so near-death at the grocery store, when told he had 13 minutes 'til lunch, S pulled out a bucket, shovel and level and went to work re-setting the front steps to the shed.