I would rather have had one on a sunny Sunday afternoon rather than a chilly Tuesday night, but I indulged Krusty in his fantasy and spent an afternoon shopping in preparation (there's always an opportunity to shop in my world!) and then skewering, chopping and side-salading. Krusty came home, or skipped home I should say, ran up to the roof and lit a fire. He then proceeded to take all of the credit for the night's festivities.
Why do men think throwing a slab of meat on some coals equals preparing a meal?
Krusty's excited little grins and cute humming was enough to make me forget about feminine hardship, though. See for yourself...
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