My Wife Has Ruined Me

As my cohort in the Tricycle of Awesome can attest, my wife is a brilliant cook. She also loves to cook. One might think this has no downside…and that one person would be so goddamn wrong it hurts. It hurts from hunger pains.

When Shannon isn’t around, I have to fend for myself. If we have no leftovers, or she’s been too busy to cook, I am stuck cooking for myself. Once upon a time, I could–and did–cook for myself. I haven’t had to do that for going on three years. Whatever skill I had in the kitchen has been replaced by new skill at washing dishes.*

So today, while Shannon works and I work around the house (domestic work, I’m not actually fixing stuff), I’m stuck with making veggie chili mac. I’m not cooking, I’m just spicing up leftovers.

*My new skill? It doesn’t look like I pissed myself when I wash dishes.

75% Enthusasim

In a few hours, I am leaving for Seattle. Its a trip I have had planned for a while, and as happy as I am to go west and visit lots of friends, I am also feeling a bit down.

See, Shannon leaves for Ireland while I’m gone. She comes back on the 23. I come back the 15. That’s eight more days without her. There is also the fact that Shannon and I travel well together. She keeps me witty and on my toes–even when I don’t want to do either–and my friends adore her. Honestly, who doesn’t?

Shannon also keeps me safe from fascists when I drink. She won’t be there…so I need to be more careful.

Don’t get me wrong: I can travel and hang out without her. I just don’t want to.