I think she must have cracked up a bit while I was away this time, because when I got home, the house was clean, the dog was still alive, and she was already planning the next night’s dinner.
I know this doesn’t seem like a big deal to all of you Martha Stewart wannabes, but it was a huge shock to me. I’m not used to this level of Alice from The Brady Bunch.
She has also nipped a bunch of addictions in the bud, so far as I can tell. Namely Coke and Tim Hortons.
I’m talking about the cola. I doubt the house would be this clean if she gave up the other one.
Of course I’m kidding. As far as I know, she has never even seen real cocaine. I have though; that’s a different story altogether.
Anyhow, when I met my gorgeous, vibrant, and sexy wife, she was not what you would call a domestic goddess. You might go so far as to say she was stunted as a “housewife”. Not that I gave a shit, it just meant that nobody was going to be ragging on me for being my usually slobby self. Win!
Now I have never been a huge follower of tradition, unless that tradition was a way to do something I really wanted to. You know, like going to a party or skinny dipping with strippers. I would rather have the lady in my life be a free spirit and spit in the face of stereotypes, instead of fawning over me like a wife is supposed to.
You don’t want to make my lunch for work? I don’t fucking blame you. I don’t want to make it either, and that means that I will have to eat whatever is in the can* that’s been rolling around in my trunk for two winters and a summer.
*It was lentils.
So anyhow, I came home from the west to a new wife that when we went grocery shopping yesterday, decided that she was going to cook a turkey dinner for me and one of my best friends. On the way home she asked me how long you cook turkeys for, because she had never done one.
Oh well, I have a month to recover from the salmonella poisoning, and if it means that my baby will smile her beautiful smile while I gag down a chewy slice of pink turkey, then so be it. If she is happy and eager to cook; I need to support her.
Luckily I didn’t need to worry about that. The turkey, and the fixins were all delicious.
It turns out that she’s a good cook after all.