When the Husband Cooks

I have some friends whose husbands do all the cooking and I think they're as lucky as jackpot lottery winners.  It's not that I don't like to cook, I do - but if you multiply all the days of my adult life by three that's a lot of meals, even if you factor in all times we've eaten out. The point is, it's nice to have a break once in a while.

Last evening was one of those nights.  Jerry made us a fantastic supper while I was downstairs fiddling around with technology.  Okay, I was goofing around on Pinterest, but you knew that, didn't you?

After eating, I did a quick kitchen clean up.  Jerry can cook with minimal mess.  It's part of his mystique.  Whereas I routinely use every pot, pan and utensil at my disposal, he seems to be able to whip up a gourmet meal using only a salad fork and a toothpick.  It's actually a pleasure to wash dishes after he's cooked because there aren't many so progress is rapid. That's a plus when you have the limited attention span that I do.

But lest you think my husband is always a godsend in the kitchen, let me set the record straight.  During the night, I wandered out to the kitchen to get a glass of water.  That's when I noticed a greasy skillet on top of the refrigerator.

I'll never understand the male mind.

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