Tuesday, October 20th 2015
Wait. Let me tell you how disgusting and spoiled I am. Here I am, lying in my filth, doing my favorite thing in the world (blogging, aka: electronic scrap-booking), when Dear Hubsand casually comes in and silently plops this on me:
Look, even the cat is excited. Now let me tell you what is in that bowl:
- Leftover onion soup he home-made a couple days ago (by slowly sautéing finely sliced onions for a loooong time, ok?);
- rustic fried potato wedges he apparently just whipped up from leftover potatoes;
- a perfectly poached egg (y’know; yolk kinda firm, kinda runny);
- gently melted slices of muenster cheese (one of my favorites);
- fresh cracked pepper.
And now that I’ve wolfed my way through most of it, I see the genius in the:
- gently crisped wheat toast gingerly placed on the top… to soak up the slurry of goodness you get at the bottom, of course.
He even brought my favorite spoon.
AND coffee. (WITH free refills.)
Holy Crap. Not to jinx it (knock knock on wood), but there’s a possibility in the near future he could acquire full-time gainful employment where he cooks for all these OTHER people. No fair! We have an arrangement; *I* bring home the bacon and feign fatigue then *he* fries it up in a pan and serves it to me.
As I told my friend Dominique the other day; “He does the food, I do the words.”
Now just to finish fully throwing myself under the bus (heavens knows why), you’ll never believe this; he also does LAUNDRY. Not just “laundry.” THE Laundry. No, you don’t get it; he does T-H-E-L-A-U-N-D-R-Y. Dammit.
Here he is asking me if I *need* anything more before he goes down to switch the next load:
Look Babe, never mind the new job. Can we just stay “poor?”
Well, I may not be worthy, ManMeat, but I love you.
You’re the Tops (and I’m not just saying that ‘cuz you’re 6’9″).
PS: Thanks for breakfast!!!