I need some crime scene tape.
Recently, when I was making grandiose preparations for a meeting I was scheduled to host, I explained to the Men With Whom I Live that the kitchen would be closed to them on Wednesday evening until Friday morning. “There will be no cooking going on--no venison frying in a pan or sausage in the microwave. The kitchen is off limits.”
They were downcast and dejected.
“Two n…
