At the Feast, All Awaited Me; I Trashed the Food

On Thanksgiving that year, my brother's wife-to-be came over for the first time. My mother had gone out early to buy all the groceries and put me in charge of the cooking. "Millie, honey, you're the head chef at a five-star hotel. Today the kitchen is all yours, all right!" I cooked in a kitchen pushing a hundred degrees while the whole family sat in the living room under the air conditioning, eating watermelon. When I'd finally finished a full table of dishes, I called toward the living room, "Mom, food's ready. Come carry the plates in!"