I managed to convince myself that my reluctance to buy a package of either "ground bison" or "bison medaillon steaks" at the supermarket was because neither was marked with a price and there was no butcher handy to let me know how much they cost.
But upon further reflection I realized that I was not experimental enough -- from a food perspective -- to try to figure out how to cook bison, nor persuasive enough to convince DH and Thing 2 to eat the hairy beast. I don't know precisely where bison roam (in my mind it is probably where no Jew has ever gone before) and while I could certainly google that, it would take time away from more important daily tasks, like updating my Facebook status and obsessing about my vacuum cleaner attachments.
Although I have long assumed that if I were ever home for an extended period I would be cooking and baking up a storm like a "real" wife (including fresh challah every Friday and all kinds of comfort foods come the cold weather), four months later we are still winging it with Triscuits on Shabbat and warmed over pizza bagels and ice cream when we need comfort.
I thought that I wasn't a very creative or enthusiastic cook because I didn't have the time. Now I know that it's just not in me. And neither, tonight, is the bison.