Our fridge was practically empty once again and so after an exhausting interview, rather than the leisurely stroll through the shops that I had earned, I dashed off to Monoprix to get some groceries. I was just going to get enough for a few dinners but I am always afraid of arriving at the caisse and not having enough for a delivery so I ended up spending twice as much as I had planned. Since I knew B would be a bit irritated at the rapidity with which I am emptying my bank account this month, I decided to make a really nice supper. In between feeding baby and doing laundry (because once again, he forgot to tell me that he was out of underwear until the day after he wore the last pair so I had to get some washing done. This is beginning to be a real pet peeve...), I was whipping up a gorgeous lasagna with homemade pasta sauce. Finally got it in the oven just before putting Ella in her bath. The timer dinged as B was finishing up reading the baby her bedtime story so I even managed to set the table and pour out two glasses of wine before he came to sit down at the table. If it isn't abundantly clear, I was bursting with pride at my superior wifely accomplishments (especially since I have been not made much of an effort the last week or so due to all the other stuff going on).
B took a bite and chewed it thoughtfully. I gave him a pointed look and he said, "Yeah, its nice." After all the effort, I was a bit disappointed with 'nice' and said "That's it? Nice?" He chewed some more and looked a bit puzzled, "Well, it tastes like something... What did you put in this?" I did a quick run down of the ingredients but he interrupted me "No, its not that, no not that. It tastes like... (thoughtful chew)... dirt."
"Why that must by the tablespoon of potting soil that you are tasting. What- you don't like that?"
B stops chewing and gives me a blank look.
"For Christsake B. I didn't put dirt in the sauce. You can finish chewing."
"No. I mean, is there something like rosemary in this?"
"Yeah, rosemary and oregano."
"Aaaah. That must be it."
"I know marriage is a learning process, but next time your wife asks you how you like dinner, 'tastes like dirt' is the wrong answer. Of course, from now on 'tastes like rosemary' is also going to be suspect."
To be perfectly honest, I was in tears from laughing so hard. What kind of guy, apart from the hopelessly clueless, would look into his frazzled wife's hopeful face and tell her that her lasagna tastes like dirt? Hands off ladies, this clueless bastard is all mine. And what a lucky lucky lady I am.