No one came home.
Amigo was at camp, so he was excused. La Petite had to work, and her job hours are unpredictable. Husband usually gets home within a predictable range of time. I thought I'd wait until one or both of them turned up before I began actually cooking.
5:00 - Husband called, said he had to run but wanted to tell me he didn't know when he'd be home because he had to go out with a crew to cover breaking news.
5:30 - I started cooking anyway. Maybe La Petite would arrive and be hungry. Who am I kidding - she's always hungry!
5:40 - I opened a Mike's Hard Lemonade, Pomegranate flavor.
5:45 - Meatballs finished. Set aside.
5:50 - Pasta looked done, started sauce.
6:00 - Ate a delicious dinner alone, in front of Jeopardy.
6:30 - La Petite came home, hot and sweaty from working, and (thankfully) hungry.
6:35 - Husband called to say, "Elvis has left the building!" But he wasn't hungry; they'd been working at a venue with a free taco bar, and he'd grazed quite a bit.
6:40 - Put the rest of the food away in the refrigerator. Cleared dishes, ran dishwasher.
Everyone had an alibi - not just an excuse, but a real reason not to be home. I'm glad I'm not dependent on this kind of family approval to keep on cooking. It could be rather depressing. As it is, I felt somewhat put out that I'd taken the time to plan and cook a decent meal for no one. When school starts and I'm cooking simple thirty minute meals again, they'd better not complain. Stumble It!