Last week, I have not been giving one particular being in this household enough attention. No, not E, but the the beef brisket I bought on Monday that has sat in the fridge.

This was my first attempt at making a beef brisket. I thought I would slap that bad boy in the slow cooker with a bit of barbecue sauce and maybe some beer, but after I got home with the meat, I realized I didn’t have the right ingredients. I looked at one recipe—damn, I didn’t have chili sauce. Looked at another—needed ketchup, and we just ran out. Defeated, I seasoned the beef with a spice rub, set in the fridge and went to sleep.

The next two days, life happened. Tuesday night E and I went to a concert in Central Park, then grabbed dinner downtown. When we came home, two drinks into the evening, I was in no condition to cook any brisket.

On Wednesday, I had four (!) functions to go to, all ending with another concert where Eminem was performing. I came home late again, but I dragged my tired bones into the kitchen, clacky-clacking in my high heels, and yelled at E. “How long do you think brisket stays good in the refrigerator?” I asked.

I reached into the fridge and smelled the beef. Still seemed good to me.

Thursday night I had a work meeting, which led to more drinks and another late arrival home. E had already eaten sushi ( E only eats sandwiches when I make them for him!). Nevertheless, I decided I was going to cook that meat if it was the last thing I do.

I didn’t even take off my work dress or my heels. At 11 PM, when most people were already in their PJs, I grabbed some barbecue sauce and honey, sliced onions, added some seasoning and got that slow cooker going, careful to not get any sauce or spices on my work dress. I hummed lyrics to Em’s “Lose Yourself” as I washed the dishes. “You only get ONE SHOT! Do not miss your chance to blow….”

The next morning, the whole kitchen smelled like honey barbecue. I took the beef out of the slower cooker and sliced off a small piece. Wow. That was some pretty fine, sweet beef. I cut up the meat and assembled a mini sandwich, just enough of a snack for E to taste, before leaving for work. I figured we could have the rest for dinner.

E snapped a photo of the sample sandwich and sent it to me by the time I got to work. Only a small bite was left. Clearly it was worth the wait.

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