Last evening, we went to the grocery store right after work. It’s always daunting to me because I will inevitably ask Ash what he’d like to eat and we’ll inevitably disagree and I will give in and he’ll be mad at me for not standing up for what I want. The only easy person to please, food-wise, is Elliot. I know the meals he wants. So Ash said he’d be OK with sandwiches. I told him how, for the past two weeks or so, I have wanted something but I don’t know what it is. So every meal I eat is supremely dissatisfying. As we hemmed and hawed and Ash kept asking what I wanted, I answered that I would like a personal chef to come to the house and make me whatever my heart desires. Oh, and can he look like this?