I hate to cook…and feel completely horrible about it. I will vacuum until my arms hurt. I will do laundry until there is nothing left to wash. I clean toilets until they sparkle. But I loathe the thought of cooking a meal. It’s almost embarrassing.
Every now and then (okay…rarely) I do get the urge to spend hours in the kitchen slaving to make the perfect meal. But 9.99995 times out of 10 I cringe just thinking about preparing food. If it were up to me, I would just eat cereal every night. But alas, I am a married woman. And I am married to a man that loves food and cooking, but this time of year he has anything but time to do what he loves. Last weekend he pointed out to me that I used to always have dinner waiting for him when he got home from work. True. When we first moved into our house, it was sort of a nesting thing – cooking dinner for my new husband in my new house. It was fun. But that thrill is gone.
What is not gone is my husbands need for food. Well, mine also for that matter. So, tonight…I will sort through the cow (literally almost a whole butchered cow) in the freezer and fix something. Hamburger Helper, honey? What about Maid Rites? I know…spaghetti. That is easy. Is it obvious that I am feeling guilty?
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