Wives with Knives

I'm tired.  My granddaughters made it clear to me yesterday that they think I do nothing around here.  I did a lot of nothing today.  And by "nothing" I mean seven loads of laundry, picking up crap all over the house, helping my granddaughter with a last-minute craft for tomorrow, repackaging the six pounds of ground beef I bought at Costco, cooking dinner, etc., etc., etc...

I thought I'd get a break from cooking today.  Usually we have take-out for Sunday dinner, but since tomorrow is Super Bowl Sunday I was planning to cook all the fattening foods that are taboo the rest of the year.  I don't watch the Super Bowl, but I try to make it a fun day for my husband since he does.  Anyway, I figured if I was cooking tomorrow we'd get take-out today.  Made perfect sense to me.  But I guess I was alone in my thinking.  So I ended up cooking a fancy meal of hot dogs and cole slaw.

I doubt most married couples fight over cole slaw.  My husband and I do.  I like onions in mine and he doesn't. 

The fact that my husband hates onions is usually only a mildly annoying issue.  Until he ticks me off about something else.  Then it feels like grounds for divorce.

While I was doing my early preparations for dinner this afternoon, I made a comment to my husband that made him angry.  Suffice it to say I was right and he was wrong.  Trust me on this.

Well, he thought he could get snippy with me.  Not a good idea when I'm holding a chef's knife.

I grabbed the ingredients for the cole slaw:  cabbage, carrots, mayo, etc.  I started chopping and grating and mixing.  I was tired.  I was hurt.  I was angry.  So I did what any self-respecting wife-with-a-knife would do: I grabbed an onion and started chopping.  And then I dumped the whole thing into the cole slaw.

Revenge is a dish best served with onion.