Forehead slap moment

Picture this scene, if you will ...

End of the week, food running low. Pay day just a few more sleeps and, more to the point, just can't be arsed going to the shops because I have to go Christmas Eve anyway so may as well stretch it out until then.

So what's for dinner?

Quiche? Nope, ran out of cheese with the avocado toasties for lunch.

Pasta? Again, no cheese :(

Brown rice salad? Yeah! Grab a handful of beans from the garden and a few shallots; if only I had some corn ...

'Whatcha doin mum?'

(Rummaging through the pantry muttering to myself) 'Looking for a tin of corn. I'm sure I had one in here.'

'What for?'

'For dinner.' More muttering ...

'Why? What's for dinner?'

'Bloody rice salad! Now help me find some corn or bugger off!'

'FINE I WILL!'

At this point I turn around to see my spectacularly serendipitous daughter stomp out of the kitchen; but not before she threw this completely ravaged corn cob on to the bench. This corn cob that she picked from the garden. Which is one of a shitload floating about the garden at the moment. And here I am, tearing the pantry apart to find corn.