Domestic Diva or Disaster? You decide...

Just call me the "Domestic Diva". Or....Domestic Disaster. Whichever you decide fits. Ok....the story is....The other day, I decided to make chicken salad...on the truck. Now, this is no small feat in itself on a truck. I personally like to think it is something Martha would give her nod of approval to. I had drug everything out of the cooler, prepared the salad, toasted the bread, etc. We were also having tossed salad with our sandwich. I had taken a block of cheese and cubed it up to put in our salads. I had everything made, and had put everything away, in anticipation for my husband returning to the truck and making some small shout of glee over what his wife had done. I considered putting a little water and flour on my face, only there was no flour in my pantry in the truck. For obvious reasons. Ahem....So my husband gets in the truck and ya'll, he is nothing if not picky about his food. Just ask Sheyna. I immediately present him with his plate and sit back and wait for his comments of adoration and praise. Then he says....I think I want cheese on my sandwich. Well....that would be easy...in a normal kitchen. I had already hauled the 40 quart cooler back into it's resting spot and didn't want to drag everything back in the world back out. I look around the bed...and suddenly, like a burst of heavenly light..I spot it. The ziploc bag with the cubes of cheese in it for the salads. I had forgotten to put it away. I think the result would have simultaneously made MacGuyver (SP?) proud and Martha Stewart shreik. See for yourself and you be the judge. Diva or disaster?

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I am NOTHING, if not creative.
You are welcome.