The buzz from my purse tells me I have a text message. I pick through my bag and gaze absently at the iPhone screen. 4:45! How did it get so late?
I gather my belongings and head out the door. I have to make it to the dry cleaners before 5, or I’ll need to buy something to wear to tomorrow night’s event. With my mission completed, and plastic encased garment hanging from the hook behind me, I fire up my car to head home. Another thought thunders through my mind. What do I do about dinner? I can’t keep microwaving frozen macaroni and cheese, and the kids will surely balk at another rotisserie chicken from the grocery store.
Besides the health concerns of such a high-carb (and not the good ones), high-cal, high protein diet, all the processed food I’m feeding my family is taking too big a bite out of the monthly budget.
I’m like a runaway car on the culinary highway; no plan, no ideas and too little energy to produce the balanced and tasty meals of bygone days.
I turn in to the grocery store lot and race inside. My back pocket buzzes with another text. I fish the phone out. “Wht tim is dnr” appears on the screen. So much for spelling. That takes up too much time.
How do I know? I don’t even know what we’re having! “soon dnt eat chps,” I reply, wishing a text would arrive to tell me what I can cook quickly, cheaply, nutritiously, and have it pass the palate test of my pickiest eater.
I look at my phone. From something reportedly so smart I get no answers.
Hmm. An idea takes hold.
Coming soon: I Wish I Had a Genie in My Phone, Part II.