“Where are all the forks?”
There was a blank expression on the three faces looking up at me.
Pete, my darling eldest son, shrugged his shoulders and went back to watching Mythbusters.
Alex, the baby – now a head taller than me – answered, “I have no idea.” He returned to texting his girlfriend.
Chris, the love of my life, looked up from his Kindle and suggested, “Did you look in the dishwasher?”
I avoided the use of sarcasm, but it was a struggle for me. “Yes, I did. We have 4 forks left and they are all in the dishwasher. We also have 3 spoons and 7 butter knives. What happened to all of the silverware?”
It was obviously a rhetorical question, because I got no answer from my men.
I sighed as I took out a ginormous serving spoon so that I could eat my little cup of yogurt. I didn’t need them to answer my question anyway. I knew where the silverware was.
The knives had been left in pizza boxes that had been emptied of pizza and thrown away. The forks had gone missing in takeout containers of Chinese food and salad. The spoons were in the landfill, still in the half-gallon mint chocolate chip ice cream tubs.
The serving spoon was too large to fit into the Yoplait container. I opened the pantry, stepping aside as at least 50 individually wrapped packets of plastic forks, knives, and spoons fell out onto the floor. Did you know that some restaurants even give out packets with napkins and salt? Jackpot!
I scooped up the packets and placed them in the drawer where the actual silverware had once lived. There was plenty of room. Now as long as we didn’t stop eating take-out meals, we’d be set. I wouldn’t have to replace the silverware.
Of course, if I decided to start cooking….
Yeah, that was likely. Not.