Tuesdays are my late day at work. I have to stay at least an hour past the normal end of my shift. To accommodate for this, Andy picks up Michael, and I prepare a crock pot dinner. That way, when I get home our schedule isn’t thrown off too much, and I still get to spend time with Michael.
On Sunday I pulled the pork roast out of the freezer to thaw. *patting myself on back for remembering* On Monday I remembered to set the cream cheese out to soften. *Pat pat* Before bed, I browned the pork, cut up the potatoes and made the cream cheese, ranch dressing sauce. I remembered to put the crock pot liner in before adding the ingredients. *Arm is getting sore from patting my own back*
Tuesday morning I pulled the crock pot out and placed it in the sleeve and I plugged it in. Then, off to work forgetting about dinner for the day.
At 2:50 and called me. “You forgot to turn on the crock pot.”
“%$#&” *Smacking myself on the forehead*
“I’ll pick up something for dinner on my way home.”
This is at least the third time I have done this. I know I have a tendency to forget to turn it on, so I have a process to make sure I double check it before leaving the house. This process failed. I wish I could blame this on age or being a working mom, but the truth is, I’m a dingbat sometimes.
Andy didn’t tease me, I like that about him.