December 29, 2011 by Kim
Husbands do strange things…
While visiting a friend, yesterday… we discovered that our spouses shared a similar trait
A trait that is slowly driving us mad
Ponder the following scene…
I’m in the kitchen… dinner time is nearing. I’ve decided to be a good wife/mother and prepare my family a meal
A real meal… with ingredients that were actually grown… somewhere
I’ll be the first to admit that cooking is not ever the high point of my day
When I get home from work, I usually want to crawl under a rock and stare at the ground… until the alarm goes off, again, that next morning.
However… with 3 growing boys and a Hubs who swears that he will die of starvation if he doesn’t eat within the next 3 minutes…. mealtime can not be dismissed
I have tried passing the cooking duties off to Hubs, many times… Hubs claims culinary ignorance and threatens us with a vat of unseasoned, overcooked Top Ramen
As the kids are getting older, I’ve noticed, that I’m putting less effort into creating their meals. My favorite nights are “Fend for Yourselves Night” I’ll give you a hint, it’s EXACTLY what it sounds like…
However… sometimes, to keep them on their toes, I’ll cook
I’ll be in the kitchen… working up a sweat…. peeling, cutting, pouring, boiling, preheating, cussing, fluffing…. fluffing? No. Where’d that come from…
While I’m prepping the “Real Dinner” I try not to take notice of Hubs…. sprawled out at the computer desk…. relaxed…. not sweating.
as much as I try to tune his physical presence out, I can still hear the Bubble Witch Saga tune, floating into the kitchen and Hubs exclaiming how he is now TEN LEVELS AHEAD OF ME!!! ***while I’m still awaiting my second round of stupid Wizard Mist Stuff***
about that time I’ll usually cut myself
or drop something
or accidentally spit in his food…
So here is where the annoyance truly sets in…
Around the time that the meal is about 85% complete, Hubs will come lumbering into the kitchen… open a cabinet and retrieve a full bag of chips
Cool Ranch Doritos, if available
he will then walk past me, carefully avoiding eye-contact, return to the computer and proceed to stuff chips into his mouth
I’ll be the first to admit that at this point a bad thought has entered my head once or twice…. or every single solitary time
So, lets just assume that a male is reading this… and wondering what the big deal is…
Well, I’ll explain
In simple, easy to understand terms. OK?
Can you stop scratching yourself, please?
Me cook hard. Cooked food almost ready to eat. You no eat other food or I’ll stab you in eyeball with fork