My sister makes a great shrimp dip. She brought a bucket of her crowd-pleasing shrimp dip to my party and now she wants to leave. She wants me to keep the left over shrimp dip but she wants her tupperware. She wants me to drop everything and search the cupboards for a bowl for her shrimp dip.
I do not want the shrimp dip because the vacation house does not have a garbage disposal. I know this shrimp dip is going to end up in the garbage. I do not care how good this shrimp dip is, we’ve all had enough bloody dip. Just because we are vacationing on the ocean does not mean we want to smell rotting shrimp dip all week.
“No, that’s okay”, I say, “You take it. We’ve got a lot of food already.”
My sister insists I keep the shrimp dip. “I can’t bring it home. I’ll eat it.”
My sister seems to be implying that if she eats the shrimp dip, she’ll get fat, but if she leaves it here and we eat it, no one will get fat. Apparently, this excellent shrimp dip becomes magically void of calories when left behind.
“You know what, I can’t seem to find a bowl.”, I say.
“Found one!”, she yells, waving a cereal bowl over her head.
“But I don’t have any Saran Wrap.”, I say, “Just take it with you, honestly, it’s so nice of you but we have plenty of food.”
“Oh. I think you could just leave it uncovered in the fridge until you get some.”, she says.
“No, it might spill. Better you should take it with you.”
“Oh, look!”, she says, “See this plate? I’m going to put the plate over the bowl, and then I’m going to put the bowl in the crisper, that way no one will knock it over by mistake. Problem solved!”
“Okay.” I sigh, resigned to shrimp dip smelliness, as the voice inside my head screams, “For the love of Pete, I don’t want your fucking shrimp dip! Why come you cannot hear me?”
“I just know how much everyone loves this dip.”, my sister says, oblivious or triumphant, I can’t tell. “In fact, let me write down the recipe for you. Do you have any paper? And a pen?”
I’d share the recipe but I seem to have misplaced it.