Scene: the kitchen. I’m making a lasagna for a Christmas party tomorrow, my sister is sitting on the floor knitting, my mom is washing dishes. I have used two full bottles of spaghetti sauce on the lasagna, repeatedly saying how much I like it with lots of sauce, but the noodles don’t seem to be gone.
“Add another layer of noodles,” my mom suggests.
“No, I like it really saucy. I can’t stand it when there are too many noodles compared to sauce.”
I pause and think for minute.
“Or maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe I like it with lots of noodles and can’t stand too much sauce. I can’t remember.”
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