My husband is standing in the way of my wifing

Johnny Rotten’s initial reaction to The Good Housewife Project was dismaying at best.

I announced that I would be getting up in the morning when he does, so that I could make him breakfast. Please note that I have made him breakfast a handful of times over the years, mostly because he was recovering from surgery and needed to have something in his stomach so he didn’t get all pukey from his medication. I’d like to say that I was doing it because I was nice and loving and caring and a Good Housewife, but I’d be painting myself to be far more nice and loving and caring and Good Housewifey than I actually am. Mostly, I did it so that he wouldn’t be hurt and vomiting, because that would be messy and smelly and very unpleasant to clean up.

Anyway, I told him that he was going to be getting breakfast every single morning for the next few weeks.

He looked at me, and a shadow of terror flickered across his face.

“But I don’t eat breakfast”, he said quietly.

“But you will! And I won’t even make it scary. I promise I won’t make you eat a pancake and sausage gelatin mold or anything!” I noticed the terror on his face, and forged ahead bravely. I know he thinks he knows what he likes and wants, but he hasn’t read the books on how a Good Housewife is supposed to please her husband, so his opinion really shouldn’t be taken as some hard and fast rule.

“Um. Yeah. Well, I like just coffee. And quiet. And, lets face it,  you’re pretty grumpy in the morning.”

“I won’t be if Im making softboiled eggs and toast triangles. It will be my pleasure to start cooking at 5 am every day, to ensure you get off to the best start possible!”

Image

This is not an egg. This is LOVE, simmered gently for exactly 4 minutes.

You’d think he’d believe me. You’d think he would be enticed by softboiled eggs. You’d think. He wasn’t, and he informed me that while I was welcome to get up at an ungodly hour, it was entirely too early to listen to me swear at eggs and make death threats to the toaster.

I didn’t say another word about it, because I was too busy saying a prayer of thanks about not having to get up to make eggs know that a Good Housewife wouldn’t argue over such petty matters, and would choose to respect her husband’s wishes and speak in dulcet tones or something.

 

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