My wife works. I don't. So I now do all the cooking, cleaning, laundry, dishes, floors, mopping etc....just like Boot Camp. LOL Because she works at a Pet Hospital (absolutely adores dogs, tolerates cats) she can be home early (rarely) late (often) and spot on time...sixty percent of the time.
So when I make dinner...and she doesn't show up for another hour and half...it gets cold. Microwave it is.
When I make dinner, like tonight, I try to time it so it comes out of the oven hot...and she can just put on her PJ's and come to dinner. But no...she shows up early....and starving. Noting I can do. I learned my lesson about turning the oven up a hundred degrees long ago with my "cake story" you might have read about.
She hasn't eaten since noon, and her noon meal is really just some vegetable smoothies she makes. So real food...is supper time. So of course, this is the night she comes home early.
Now I am upset. Can't get the timing down right. So I have to feed her something to curb her appetite until the meatloaf is ready...so it is Ala carte with potatoes and peas. Sigh. Not a nice presentation on a warm platter.
Then I start jabbering away. I haven't seen her all day. Have nobody to talk to. And can barely breathe as I heal up.
She, on the other hand, has put in ten solid hours, dealt with the General Public Pet Owners (and you all know what they are like when their pets are sick!), she has fought traffic for an hour (she works across the rive in another county), and now she just wants quiet. And here comes me...chatty Kathy.
The roles of my youth are completely topsy Turvey. I am the Traditional 1950's House wife. I have dinner ready. I have the house clean. I have the table set. Fresh PJ's layer out. And I just wan to visit with my girl.
I have become the woman I always wanted to marry.