Saturday, January 14, 2012

We have a choice ... get pissed ... or learn to laugh at yourself

After the last kid was picked up by daddy, my race with the clock got started. It was 5:30 PM and my man would be home around 6:30 PM. First of all, nobody tells me that our dinner should be ready at that time BUT ME! And really I don’t have to cook, he would be happy to do it. Or we could have left-overs.

But no ... I have something in mind I want to fix and I have one hour.

It was a long day and it was a hard day and this dinner will be good!

I race upstairs to the kitchen and grab two frying pans. Then into the garage, grabbing a bag of frozen Tilapia fish from the freezer. I run upstairs to the next floor, where in a spare bedroom I have all my herbs and pepper-plants. I get all the herbs I need and a perfect bell-pepper.

I have to pee, but I don’t have time. I start the meal. And I throw a load of jeans from the washer in the dryer. Back to the kitchen. Cutting, chopping, grabbing things from the fridge.

The cold water makes me have to pee more, but I don’t have time ... hurry ... keeping an eye on the clock.

Feeding the cats, letting the dog out. Fish is thawed, drying it off with paper towels.
Fry it fast for 2 minutes, turn it over ... place herbs and lemon slices on the fish, cover!
Last minute additions in the other pan ... fresh tomato and spinach. I am winning from the clock!
Pouring wine ... I sneeze ... WTF ... just peed in my pants, just a little, but still! Holding it too long!

I run into the laundry room and throw my pants in the washer (don’t wear panties), put on PJ-pants. I look stupid, but who cares.

This is where I discover I forgot to turn on the dryer. My son told me that multi-tasking doesn’t work! Is he right?

Glass of wine ... I sit down ... I am wiped out.

The garage door opens.

He walks in and hugs and kisses me. It feels good and he smells like fresh air. He opens the frying pans on the stove and says, “I thought we stopped buying that fish, because we didn’t like it.”

The word WE is a good word, but in this case it means HE doesn’t like it.
I always laugh it off, but right now I am so pissed I want to scream. Did I know and forget he doesn't like THAT kind of fish?
I just know that we don’t eat enough fish ... period!

Yes, we do fight ... every passionate couple fights ...
Experience tells me that I am not in any shape to win this one and I don’t have the energy for make-up sex, so what’s the use?
It’s the little things in a relationship that can make you flare up at each other. When you are exhausted it gets a whole bunch worse.

The outcome?

We eat all of it ... he likes the flavors. He thinks it is funny I peed in my pants.
He has a beer with his meal, and I have wine.

And I realize, that this would have made a very funny sitcom.

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