Thus the heavens and the earth, and all the work for the week, were finished. And so on the seventh day, They slept in until 8:30 a.m. Then They looked upon each other and proclaimed, “Damn, is it time to go to the grocery store again? Didn’t we just do that?!”

All the work They had done to create the delicious chickpea lunch bowl for last week felt like it should have covered Them for several more days. But it did not. And so now They must come up with another equally good idea, though They have no good ideas and the only food They can remember that exists is hot dogs.

And so They began the creation of the week’s meal plan, though They each hoped unto themselves that The Other would proclaim, “Whatever, let’s just get takeout all week and go bowling.”

And so They looked upon each other for the next hour and said, “What do you feel like eating?”

“I don’t know, what do you feel like eating?”

“I asked you first.”

Finally, She suggested bolognese. Thus the Other She exclaimed, “It takes like three hours to cook bolognese. We have pickleball this week, and you’re working late two nights. We need a bunch of easy stuff.”

And so it was decided to do bolognese at a later date, which shall be never.

And so now They had to resist the ultimate temptation… the temptation to select the New York Times’ Crisp Gnocchi with Brussels Sprouts and Brown Butter, which was forbidden because They had already cooked that nine times this month. So They vowed to find something fun and easy that would spice up Their week. They also vowed to find something that contained enough veggies to offset all the Cheez-its, used the sage They bought last week, and wasn’t pasta but also wasn’t rice or a sandwich.

Finally, She proclaimed, “I found a thirty-minute beef with celery—” but then She remembered that the celery was only sold in giant bags. They shall not cook with celery, unless They wanted it sitting in the fridge for weeks, haunting Them. Thus They vowed to forsake the hell out of celery.

And so They wondered if They could just eat nothing, perhaps some sort of gray nutrient-dense sludge. She looked out upon the kitchen and proclaimed, “Isn’t that the plot of Soylent Green?”

The Other She went on Wikipedia and confirmed, “Yeah that’s the plot of Soylent Green, but it gets way darker.” And so They successfully steered the convo away from meal planning and read many Wikipedia articles on cannibalism.

The sun began to set, and They eventually decided to do the New York Times’ Crisp Gnocchi with Brussels Sprouts and Brown Butter for the tenth time this month.

And so the meals were decided. Then They looked upon each other and said, “Oh shit, the dishes.”