The Slow Eater.

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Every afternoon about 5pm, I get tense. Not because of anything in particular, just a feeling of dread. And then I realise. Bloody dinner time.

We eat every night at the table as was the way I was bought up. The table is set and I cook up whatever I can, mainly from things I find lurking in the fridge. And I holler, DINNER!! Dinner!!

“DINNERRRRRR”

We sit and eat and chat. We do “Best and Worst”, where you have to go around the table and tell what the best and worst thing about your day was. Horatio mainly tells me that the best thing about the day is the dinner sitting in front of him.

And Jack tells me that the worst thing about his day, is also, the dinner sitting in front of him.

And then he pushes it around the plate for 20 minutes. Mr Woog and Horatio always finish eating in the style of two untethered boars at a trough, and then watch me. They register with disappointment each time I take a bite, only signalling with glee when I indicate that I am full, as they swoop in and devour my remaining dinner.

And then we sit. And sit. And sit. While Jack speaks in a strange French accept and tells us about the latest Lady Gaga single. Over time, people are excused from the table and I retire to the couch to watch the news while Mr. Woog and Horatio get stuck into the kitchen.

While Jack sits and sits and sits.

Until eventually I internally lose my shit and tell him to take his plate to the sink.

EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT.

So I ask you, dear readers, do you have any tips so I don’t have to internally lose my shit at 6.30pm each night. It cannot be good for me to continue to grow that fiery ball of anger in my guts, especially when I am watching the news. It is like perfect conditions to rattle my penultimate state of calm and relaxed.

Seriously. Help a sister out?