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Michael Picarella: I can’t make decisions

Picarella Family Report

Posted: December 11, 2009 9:54 p.m.
Updated: December 12, 2009 4:55 a.m.
 
Wife: So whaddaya want for dinner?
Me: Ummm—
Wife: You wanna go out?
Me: Yeah. Sure.
Wife: You decide. Where do you want to go?
Me: Ooooh, let’s go to Maria’s Italian Deli. They’ve got that really good manicotti. And cannoli. That sounds good.
Wife: But we just had Italian food two nights ago. Where else would you want to go?
Me: Let’s go to Dave’s, then.
Wife: That’s too fattening. What about Salt Creek Grille?
Me: I don’t want to get dressed up. What about BJ’s?
Wife: We always go to BJ’s.
Me: Well, where do you wanna go then?
Wife: It’s your decision.
Me: OK then. Everyone in the car. We’re going to Maria’s.
Wife: I thought you didn’t wanna go to Maria’s.
Me: No, you didn’t wanna go to Maria’s.
Wife: Can we go somewhere else? Anywhere but Italian food.
Me: OK, how about the Route 66 Grill?
Wife: Isn’t that kinda like Dave’s?
Me: I guess it’s somewhat like Dave’s.
Wife: How about Margarita’s?
Me: Is that where you wanna go?
Wife: It’s your decision. Do you wanna go there?
Me: No, but if you wanna go there, then let’s go.
Wife: No—just pick where you wanna go.
Me: I did pick where I wanna go. You didn’t like it. And you didn’t like my second and third choices either. So you tell me where you wanna go.
Wife: Are you mad at me?
Me: No, I’m just hungry, so choose where you wanna go, and let’s go.
Wife: I’m sorry — go ahead, you choose where you wanna go.
Me: OK, Maria’s.
Wife: Maybe we should just eat at home.
Me: Fine.
Wife: What do you wanna have?
Me: Spaghetti.
Wife: But we just had Italian food two nights ago.
Me: How about meat loaf?
Wife: Kinda fattening, don’t you think?
Me: Steak?
Wife: Anything healthier?
Me: Pork chops?
Wife: Hmmm.
Me: Chicken? Fish? Tacos—
Wife: Which one do you want?
I went into the kitchen, got the cereal, the milk, bowls and spoons, and I put it on the table. I sat down, poured the cereal, poured the milk, and I started eating. My wife and our son joined me.
Wife: This was a good idea, sweetie. So whaddaya want for Christmas?
Me: I’ll shop for myself.

Michael Picarella is a Santa Clarita resident and a proud husband and father. His column reflects his own opinion, not necessarily that of The Signal. To contact Picarella or to read more stories, go to www.michaelpicarellacolumn.blogspot.com.

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