In Praise of a Cooking Spouse

I painted the living room today. There were lots of other things on my to-do list, but they didn’t happen. After a 40-minute trip to Leeston for a new paint tray, because the roller handle I bought yesterday (to replace the one that broke last week) was the wrong size for our paint trays, and then a 2 ½ hour trip to the city because the white paint I was sold last week wasn’t actually white paint (it was dark base, which looks white in the can, but actually doesn’t cover anything), I finally managed to make some headway on the job. Then I remembered I was supposed to milk my neighbour’s goats, so I dashed around cleaning up, grabbed my milk pot, and headed over…only to discover that it’s NEXT week she needs me to milk for her. At this point, it was 6:30 pm, the living room was still unfinished, and I hadn’t even thought about making dinner yet. I was ready to have beer and pretzels and call that a meal.

“Can I make you a nice meal?”

My marvellous spouse allowed me to continue painting while he grilled vegetables and polenta (and even poured me a glass of wine, never mind how the trim painting gets a little wobbly…).

I cook most weekday evenings, just because I’m the first one home. On weekends, we usually cook together. So it was delightful to have someone cook for me. What a wonderful gift!