I fractured my wrist in two places last week, and it has been extremely hard to type with my left hand. I want to thank those that have volunteered to be my guest bloggers! If you would like to contribute a post, please email me!
It's always the same with him.
Clock? 5:40. Shit.
"Hubby, what do you want for dinner?"
*sigh* "Seriously babe, help me out here."
*shrugs* "I'll eat whatever."
"You're such a liar..."
*mocks him* "Ewww, this has mushrooms. Eww, the noodles are chewy. Eww, is that TINY LITTLE GREEN THING a piece of broccoli?! Eww, why does this smell like tuna? OH MY GOD, did you put JELLY on my peanut butter sandwich?!"
He glares. "Are you done yet?"
I continue the rant as I head off to the kitchen. "I don't even like mushrooms! But you cannot even taste them, or broccoli, when they're" pinches fingers "this freaking small! And who the hell doesn't eat peanut butter with jelly? Or doesn't like Oreos? Oh, and tuna salad is the SHIT. If you could plug your nose for two seconds and suck up the smell, MAYBE, you would like it!"
I'm in the kitchen banging pots and pans around and he's just standing there, glaring at me.
I drop a pan and say "Ya know what, no more! If you can't tell me something other than 'food' for once... and answer with something you want... so that for once you'll eat what I cook, then I'm not cooking dinner on those days."
"Are you serious?" He asks.
"Yes!" I storm out of the kitchen, but not without turning around first to say, "And by the way, they're not 'chewy'. It's called AL DENTE!"
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