Okay, you have a ham in the fridge, but it's still frozen solid. And you don't know how to cook it anyhow, so the **** with that.
You sort of wonder dreamily about dinner throughout the day, but you don't get too concerned until about 4 PM.
You decide, "Screw it!" and make macaroni and cheese (out of a box, of course) for the kids at 4:30 because they're starving and can't wait for their Dad to get home at 5:30 to eat.
You have a brilliant idea... eggs and turkey bacon! But you already had that for breakfast, and you're not on Atkins, you're on South Beach, so you have another inspiration and decide to make an omelet with celery, mushrooms, and red pepper.
The red pepper doesn't look good, but you manage to cut out a few good bits.
The mushrooms have also seen better days, but they're still edible. Slice them.
The celery... well, let's just say it's not limp. Chop one stick.
Okay, the vegetables are neatly chopped, and you pre-cook them in a pan because you're not big on crunchy vegetables. (the fact of the matter is, you're not big on vegetables at all. All you really want for dinner is a big bag of Doritos and a bag of Bridge Mixture.) I believe the term is, "to saute", but I could be wrong.
The turkey bacon is cooking very VERY slowly (ask Jennifer 3FC to clear that one up) in another frying pan.
Things are going well. Until you remember that there isn't a single egg in the house. Not a one. Not even a floater.
It's getting late. The vegetables are slightly over-cooked at this point, and you remove them from the heat.
Take a look in the pantry. Lentils. Perhaps you could throw a can of lentils in with the vegetables. You like lentils, and they're OP. You open a can and put them in a colander (sp?) to drain. There's nothing much else of interest in the pantry besides things like potatoes, corn, canned pumpkin, and other assorted high-carbers. Well, there's tomato paste, but it doesn't interest you.
For some bizarre reason you think of peanut butter. It's OP. You think it sounds vaguely gourmet to eat a main dish with the words "Peanut Butter" in the name.
You discard the idea, remembering a few other experiments from the past.
DH calls. He's just around the corner, and is about to pull into the driveway. You suddenly remember that there is some of that disgusting egg substitute in the freezer. You remember to read the instructions, and manage to defrost it in the microwave without baking it solid in the carton.
DH walks in the door and says, "Gee, it smells good in here!" You giggle nervously.
The vegetables are already in the pan (which will go in the oven. Make sure you have an oven. And an oven-proof pan. IE, don't use the one with the plastic handle.), and you simply dump the two cartons of egg substitute on top of them. Too late, you realize that you've forgotten to grease the pan. No matter. It's too late, so let's not worry about it.
DH walks into the kitchen and peers into the pan. He looks you in the eye and says, "I see Madame Benoit is with us today." He's not smiling.
He kindly cuts up some cheese chunks and throws them into the pan.
Don't bother to throw any herbs or spices in. The thought never occurs to you.
You put the entire ungodly mess into the oven. You have no idea how long it will take to cook (or not cook, or burn, etc), but you're not overly concerned at this stage, and decide to write out the recipe for a friend on the Internet while it bakes. (or whatever the **** it's doing in there)
At this point, the turkey bacon is overcooked. Remove it from the heat. It's cold and hard, but if worse comes to worse, you can always crumble it and sprinkle it over the omelet.
Take the omelet out of the oven when you see it starting to burn around the edges. It should be done. To your surprise, it's not burned on the bottom. It actually looks very professional. It doesn't taste very good, but it's probably the best (and only) thing you've made all week. Add copious amounts of salt, and make a mental note to cast your eyes in the direction of the spice shelf next time you attempt to cook.
The turkey bacon is pretty damned good (well, relatively speaking), so make sure you save a piece for your very last bite so that it's the last thing you taste. You sure as **** don't want the taste of the omelet coming back up later.
Spend the rest of the evening wondering what to do with the lentils draining in the sink.
Recipe for Sflake
We are cups, constantly and quietly being filled. 
Can I come over the next time you make this dish. 
your writing abilities! Put it in book form, and I'll buy it! 
I just got back from the Y. I guess I'd better cook it, huh? Thanks for the crockpot idea, Ruthie. Water, huh? Not chicken broth? 
