Mi paella primera

"I really like your sunglasses."

The checkout clerk and I were talking shades. "Those look great. I usually just buy mine at the gas station."

"I used to, too, but the boyfriend won't have it," I said, slipping the expensive fancy-ass designer shades back behind my ears.

"I see," laughed the clerk. "That's who you're making the paella for."

"It's who I'm attempting to make the paella for," I said.

"Oh come on, it'll be fine."

"On no, it probably won't." I smiled sadly. Should I tell her about my blog? Naw.

"I'm sure he'll love it."

"Well," I said, "I suppose I'll get points for trying."

"You'll become the paella master!" she said, bagging up the last of the ingredients, on which I spent $60. For that much money, I could get a hell of a paella, prepared by a professional, with an appetizer AND wine. And this very night, too.  If I were a woman with more sense.

But I'm not that kind of woman.

Check this space tomorrow...

Comments

[Mr Squid]

Good luck with the paella. It's not as hard as it looks, but failures can be spectacular.