A bedtime story

Once upon a time, in a small condominium kitchen, a bright and chipper young (and not-even-remotely-close-to-turning-30) girl had a marvelous idea for dinner.  She'd fix up some tasty pasta with a cheesy, sun-dried tomato sauce.  Sauté some shrimp in butter and garlic.  Mix it all together.  Add a little shredded cheese on top.  Put it in a lovely bowl for her prince.  Voila.  

So, this worn-out, pregnant gal pulled out the bag of frozen shrimp from the freezer and set out to thaw it thoroughly.  She noticed that this 1-pound bag of frozen shrimp her prince had grabbed at the local market didn't say the hyphenated word de-veined anywhere on it.  

She searched.  

To no avail.  

And, so (not truly understanding the importance of this word) she shrugged and moved on.  

As she cooked up the pasta, she poured out the shrimp into a bowl of cold water in the sink to thaw.  This lovely and not-at-all-bedraggled girl started to wonder if she herself would have to de-vein this huge bowl full of shrimp.  

Surely not, she said to herself.  Surely, it wasn't that necessary.  Or, surely, she just missed that magical word on the package.  She scanned both sides.  A couple of times.  

Nothing.

So, having never de-veined anything, she picked up her trusty crystal ball, lovingly named Google, and asked the all-important questions.  

1) Must one de-vein shrimp? 

(Yes, unless one wants to eat the ickyness that is said-vein) 

and 

2) How does one go about de-veining shrimp?  

Sadly, she received her answer.  

In detail.    

It sounded rather unappetizing, but she girded her loins (I don't think that's right...) and knew she was up to the task.  

....Probably.

The pasta drained.

The sauce simmered.

The knife was chosen and held at the ready.

And, so she began to follow the carefully laid out instructions.

It was slimy.  

And stringy.  

And messy.

And, occasionally, she had to force herself to FORGET what it was that she was actually removing from those little shrimp bodies.  

It was nasty.  Oh-so-nasty.

But she accomplished the task set before her.

The meal was completed and set before The Prince.  

All was tasty and good in the land.

The moral of this tale?

 
Never again forget to check the package of shrimp The Husband places in the basket.

Y'all, I de-veined a pound of shrimp tonight. 

I don't want to ever, ever do that again.

Ever.

The End.