And this pretty much explains why I don't cook

Lest anyone think I am that clever, let me tell you that I I found this here. And it is the sad, yet hilariously honest truth. Here's what I hate about cooking:

• The deciding what exactly I am going to cook part. Menu planning. Snore city.
• The going shopping for ingredients I am never going to use again part. Dried mustard seed anyone? Anyone ever using that again?
• The cutting up of things part. Paring knives are not my friends. Neither are peelers.
• The touching of raw meat part. There is probably some sort of mathematical equation to sum up how the more I have to touch raw meet the less likely I am to want to eat it later.
• The mess left on the stove that my husband won't clean up part.
• The having tons of dishes to wash part. See above about husband not cleaning part.
• The my kids saying "What's this", and "I don't like (insert crap food I made here)"
• The having leftovers that I know I won't eat but make me feel vaguely guilty part.
• The having to dispose of those leftovers weeks later and seeing what has become of them part and again feeling non-virtuous and like I am wasting the planet's natural resources because I don't like leftover squash and noodle casserole.

Here's what I like about cooking:

• Um, nothing. I don't even usually like what I cooked, and even if I do, the things I hate about the experience far outweigh the possible food goodness. Because I can achieve food goodness from opening a bag of potato chips and eating them with lots of dip and there is little to no clean up from that.

So, yeah. I said it. And now I'll go see what's in the refrigerator to make for dinner.