Her: I made lasagna last night, it turned out mostly okay.
Her: the sauce was fine, I used ricotta cheese, I forgot the noodles, but it baked up nicely.
Me: (a moment of puzzled silence.) did you say you forgot the noodles?
Her: yes. But other than that it turned out perfect.
Me: but you forgot the noodles?
Me: so it was just a dish of meat sauce and cheese?
Me: no pasta at all?
Her: what don’t you understand?
Me: so very much about this.
Her: I forgot the noodles–it happens.
Me: I don’t think it does. I’m not sure it’s ever happened; you may be a pioneer.
Her: it was just a practice lasagna anyway.
Me: strictly speaking–I don’t think you can call that a lasagna.
Her: (Angry silence.)
Me: when you construct a lasagna you do it in layers, several of which are strips of pasta.
Her: I know how to make a lasagna.
Me: evidently you don’t.
Her: can we just drop it!
So we dropped it.
Later she confided that she had also made practice brownies which had hardened and congealed so permanently to the pan, that she had no choice but to throw the pan and attached brownies into her backyard in disgust…but at least you could call them brownies.