The other night Beef cooked this really fatty dinner and flipped out when I didn't eat any of it. He knows I'm trying to lose weight! It was kind of scary -- he threw our plates in the trash and stormed out, and was gone for almost twenty four hours. I was a little bit used to this sort of thing from last time, but overall, throwing plates in the garbage and leaving for a whole day just isn't a great communication skill.
He had cooled down when he finally came home, and he apologized and gave me one of those little red plastic-film chinese fish that curls up in your palm. This was a big relief because he only gets those when he eats at Plum Garden, and he only eats at Plum Garden when he's been searching his soul (there's this dim corner booth that he likes to sit in for hours at a time, ordering different kinds of soup and Franzia). When he's feeling alright he always goes to Mr. Wok, that cheap place that I'm convinced uses feral chickens.