Saturday, April 14, 2012

The Problem With Husbands

When it comes to the topic of husbands, I know that I have little room to talk.  I have found a wonderful man who treats me the way he would treat...well, let's not put a label on it shall we?  And I'm aware that my problem with Husband is very first world.  It's like having a fridge full of food and nothing to eat.  Or a closet full of clothing and nothing to wear.  He doesn't beat me, neglect me, or limit me in any way.  I don't wear a scarf when I go out in public unless it's fabulous and matches my attire.  And I don't have to have his permission to go out.  More often than not, he encourages it in a way that makes me feel a little like the cat when we lock her out of the bedroom.  Like I should be mewling at the door.
Let me innnnn!!  I know there's something good in there!
And somehow, that can kind of be the problem.  Husband can't just be satisfied with telling me that I'm the most beautiful, talented, lovely, gifted, and pale woman he knows.  No, Husband always has to encourage.  Suggest.  Continue talking when I desire him to shut the hell up.  It's more than a little irritating.

Take for example this previous weekend.  I was baking a cake and playing video games, and apparently I looked so happy that Husband could not just appreciate that I wasn't on his case for once.  Oh no.  He had to plop down next to me and have a conversation about it.

Me:  This was a great day.  I got to do two things I like all day long, bake cakes and play video games.
Husband:  That's great honey.  I wish I could make it last.  But then once a month you'd have to bake cake and play video games.
Me:  We're fat enough.
Husband: *no longer responding, just drifting in the ideal dream world where he gets cake once a month*
This is how I imagine regular cake time going eventually.
Usually, these conversations end with him figuring out some way for me to make him extra baked goods during the month, instead of on special occasions.  So here's another problem.  Aside from suggesting things, he has to encourage extra-curricular baking.  Not that I mind baking, it gives me great joy.  But what do I do once I start baking at all times? 

Special occasions are no longer special because I can make blue velvet cake any time.  Each holiday I would have to come up with something bigger and better, and before you know it, I'm making croquembouche on a random Thursday and the next time Thanksgiving rolls around (I have to celebrate that shit twice up here) my head explodes in messy morsels of grey matter and pastry dough.
This can change depending on which cereal we buy for the week.  Stepping on Cheerios HURTS.

As I said, husbands are a first world problem.  Especially for me.  And now I need to go to the grocery store.  Tiramisu doesn't magically make its self on a Wednesday.

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