The SWMBO is calling in her birthday chits; detail the car in the morning and prepare dinner for the octogenarians tonight.
The Duchess and I are off to market early in the day, I’ll need oranges, limes and a good lean pork roast. Tonight’s fare: Puerto Rican pulled pork, hoppin’ john over jasmine rice; 2 hours of prep and 8 hours cooking time. This is the first of twenty-five dinners I’m obligated to.
Duchess (my 17 year old puppy) seems glad to see me leaving the store; she grows so tired of all the “Isn’t she sweet?”, “Hello, doggie.” and “Do you want to come home with me?” As soon as I reach the car, Duchess behind the wheel I have to remind her, “You don’t have your license young lady, I’m driving.” She will remain behind the wheel until she gets a treat or God forbid I don’t have any treats she will retreat to the back seat and pout (much like many other 17 year olds).
Errands run, I enter my domain (for the day at least) and prepare for the feast. I do so enjoy being able to drive the SWMBO away, wooden spoon in hand, “leave my kitchen immediately” (such a power rush). That lasted about 90 minutes, I finished all the prep, the roast was in the cooker, the beans had been soaking overnight and I’d cleaned my mess. My reign in the kitchen had come to an end. I put the last cutting board away; she smirking with arms crossed leaning against the door frame of the dining room, “Don’t forget the car, hon”, “Its 38 degrees out there.” She held up the gift certificate I had prepared for her Birthday present, 10 Free Car Detailing, Any Time, Every Day Is Ladies’ Day.
I discovered that it is impossible to wash a car with gloves on, no matter how much you want it not to be so.