"It's a CUPCAKE!" she snapped.

"What is?" he asked.

"A cupcake."

"Um..."

"There's a little paper cup.  In it is a little cake.  It's a cupcake!

"Uh..."

"It doesn't need cream under the icing!  It doesn't need ganache in the middle!  It just needs to be a CUP.  CAKE."

"OK..."

"I don't want the extra calories.  I don't need the extra calories!  I just want to bite into slightly crunchy, sweet icing and then down into a soft, moist cake!  And have it be small, so I can only eat so much of it!"

"Honey?" he said.  "Have you seen the can opener?"

"I AM ON A CUPCAKE RANT HERE!" she yelled.  "CONCENTRATE!"

Silence.

"What is WRONG with these people?  I mean, the clue is IN. THE. NAME!  CUP!  CAKE!"

Silence.

"You're ignoring me now, aren't you?"

"Yup."

"Fine!"

"Who the hell is this?" she yelled from the kitchen.  "Is this someone from Food Network Star who's auditioning to actually get a real show on the channel?"

 

"No," he yelled back from the living room.  "It's a real show... about Mexican cooking."

 

"She sounds terrible!" she yelled.  "She isn't convincing me at all.  There is no way she has girlfriends coming round for lunch.  In fact, I doubt she has any friends at all!"

  

"You are so mean!" he said.  "I guess this is why her show is on at 6am.  See, now you're making me think like a Next Food Network Star judge," he said.  "I keep thinking things like 'That looks like a mess' and 'There's nothing original about this dish!' "

 

"I know," she replied.  

 

"So she's been saying that this cake recipe is something everyone used to ask her mother to bring to parties.  But the recipe looks pretty easy to me.  Do you think maybe the family friends were saying 'Hey, just tell her to make that cake again.  I'll make the Mole, you make the tortillas... let her do something she can't fuck up.' "

 

"Oh now who's mean?" she laughed.

 

"She's putting the mixture in a bundt tin!  I hate those things!" he yelled.  "My mother brought one back from the US when I was a kid and I could never get the cake to come out whole!  It has so many ridges that the cake just sticks!"

 

"Well watch how she does it," she said, pointing at the TV.

 

"She USES HALF A POUND OF BUTTER TO GREASE IT!" 

 

"Well there you go," she smiled.  "You learnt something new today after all."

 

"Oh, shut up," he said.

 

 

 

"Welcome home, Honey," she said.

"Thanks," he said, kissing her.  "It's good to be back."

"How was your flight?"

"Well they boarded the Gold customers but then went straight to general boarding so all the Silver level customers were really pissed off."

"Aw, Honey.  I know what a big difference these small perks make to your stress level when you do regular business travel.  I remember it well."

"I know.  It was so annoying!  Then I saw what I thought was a drag queen, and she turned out to be cabin crew!"

"No way!" she laughed.

"That whole collagen lip thing with the dark lip liner and the lighter lip gloss really doesn't work.  Someone needs to tell these women that."

"Agreed.  It's the female equivalent of the comb-over."

"But I ended up sitting next to some very interesting people.  He was the CEO of C_____ and he was there with his PR person.  I was in the middle seat of the Exit row."

"Oh, so you just plopped your ass right down between them in the middle of their conversation."

"Yup.  I just sat down, moved from side to side a little, stretched out my elbows and went 'AAAAAAH!' " he joked.

"So? Did anything come of the conversation?"

"I'm meeting with him on Tuesday!"

"Well done!"

"I know, I rock.  Rock around the clock!"  He laughed.

"Nice to hear you happy and giggling, Honey," she said, "but I'd rather hear you laughing all the way to the bank."

"It's coming, just give me time..."

"OK.  Well, in the meantime, you can cook dinner."

"Aw, come on!  I just got back from a very hard trip!"

"Hard?  HARD?  Three meetings?  Swanning about in LA with your Hollywood writing buddy?  That was about as hard as my flabby ass!"

"Actually your ass is getting quite hard..."

"Thank you, I've been working to get--- HEY!  Don't try and flatter me into letting you off the hook!"  You cook!"

"Damn," he said.  "So close..."

To read more in the He Said She Said series, click here.

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED IN HERE?" she yelled.

"Wha--?" he rolled over in bed.

"You better get out of bed before I KILL YOU!"  

"I'm right here," he mumbled, stumbling into the kitchen.

"What happened?"  She stood, hands on hips, surveying the explosion of dirty dishes, pots, cheese grater, and a block of cheese left out overnight.

"I made baked potato chips.  Don't you remember?"

"What the hell?"

"Oh just you hang on a minute," he said.  "You asked me what I was eating and then you fell asleep!  You know what you're like after drinking!  This is you: 'What are you eating?  Oh that's nice... gnhrrrt!  Gnhrrrrrrrt!' "  He imitated her snoring.

"Oh, very funny.  What did you watch on TV?" she asked, as they walked through to the lounge.

"Old episodes of Angel.  I watched the puppet one."

"Oh, no!  Come on!  I love the puppet one!" she whined.

"That's exactly what you said when it came on.  Then you went GNHRRRRT! GNHRRRRRT!"

"Aw, you made me tea last night," she said, looking at a full cup on the coffee table and changing the subject.

"Yes, you asked me to.  I gave it to you and you went---"

"OK!" she snapped.  "I get the point!  Doesn't give you any excuse to leave the kitchen looking like Dresden after the bombing!"

"Well I was three sheets to the wind too," he said, sheepishly.

"AHA! So you admit it!"

"Honey, that's the first time we've been crazy like that in weeks."

"I know," she said, giggling.  Then, suddenly, she got serious.  "Oh shit!"

"What?" he said.

"Do you think there's anything silly I did at the party that I don't remember?"

"Don't worry, Honey," he said.  "No-one else that was there will remember either."

"Except for the lady who was pregnant and not drinking!" she wailed.

"Yeah, but she leaves to go home to Hawaii tomorrow."

"Oh yeah.  Good."

To read more in the He Said She Said series, click here. 

"That chicken was amazing," she said, washing her hands, "but I'm struggling to get the oil off my hands."

"I'm using Natures's Oil Remover," he said.

"What?"  

She looked down and saw him standing, hand stretched out, letting Puppy Dog lick and lick and lick and lick his fingers.  

She started to laugh.

 

To read more in the He Said She Said series, click here. 

"Look!" he said.

"What?" she said.

"Didn't you notice?"  He waved his hand, dramatically.

"Um, what am I supposed to be looking at?"  She was bemused.

"I took out the trash!  See?  New bags in the bin, no recycling outside the back door..."  He grinned, triumphant.

"Oh, boy," she said, heaving a very big sigh.

"What?" he asked, worried that, in spite of all this, he had managed to do something wrong.

"Now I have to do all that paperwork," she said, sighing again.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, you know what the Swedes are like..."

"Honey.  WHAT.  ARE.  YOU.  TALKING.  ABOUT?"

"I have to nominate you now, and the nomination take a lot of paperwork.  They don't just give the Nobel prize for House Cleaning out without proper evidence!"

"Watch this," he said, turning away from her, "and tell me what you see."  He stalked out of the kitchen, head held high.

"I see you, and I see you ignoring me!" she laughed, very familiar with this game they'd played since before they were even married.  

There was no reply.

 

For more He Said She Said, click here. 

He was cooking at traditional English breakfast - scrambled eggs, bacon, baked beans...

"Can you help me and make the toast," he asked, "or I'll muck up the scrambled eggs."

"Errm..." she wavered, having just got out of bed and not particularly wanting to help, "No."

"Come on!" he said, exasperated, "It's really hard to coordinate it all!"

"OK," she sighed, capitulating.

 

Then... CRASH!  

While picking dry tupperware off the drainer next to the sink to put it away in the cupboard, she knocked a wine glass onto the floor, which shattered.

"Aw, honey!" he snapped, clearly annoyed!

"WHAT?" she snapped.

"Breakfast is ready to serve!"

"Well, serve it then, so it doesn't get cold!"

"Yes but - we have to deal with this, first."

"I'LL deal with it.  You serve."

Brother-in-law, visiting from the UK, looked on, bemused.

"But--" he began.

"What?" she interrupted.

"Why were you putting things away?"

"Because!" she said, offering a mature explanation.

"Why?" he sighed.

"I was trying to HELP YOU.  You ASKED me to help you!"

"Putting the tupperware away isn't helping!  All I needed was the toast!"

"I CAN'T WORK IN A MESSY KITCHEN!" she yelled.  "While I'm in here, I HAVE to clear it up!  That's how women are!  We've DISCUSSED this!"

"But--"

"Just SERVE THE BREAKFAST!  I'll clean this up!"

 

Silent annoyance filled the air, punctuated by the crinkle sounds of glass being swept up.  Brother-in-law took his breakfast plate without comment and retreated to the couch.

She plugged in the Dyson and violently vacuumed the remaining small bits of glass off the floor, with malice.

He came into the kitchen and hugged her.

"You didn't even notice my injury!" she whined, pointing to her bleeding foot.

"Aw, honey!" he said, hugging her harder.  

"Happy fucking Mother's Day," she pouted.

"Aw!" he said, and offered to maker her a latte.

She smiled.

For the rest of the day, she owned him.

They were discussing the new desk that was arriving for his home office.

"It's going to be great!" she shrieked.  "You'll have six wooden drawers to put your crap in, and I won't be able to see any of it!"

"I guess you want me to institute a Clean Desk Policy," he said.

"That would be... fantastic!" she said.   

"Well it'll be replacing the Clean Floor Policy, then," he said.  "There can beeeee onleeee one!"

"Very fucking funny," she said.

 

 

"I can't remember if I took my pill or not this morning," she said.

"Pill?" he asked.

"My anti-depressant," she said. "I take it as soon as I get up. Do you remember hearing my pill bottle rattle?"

"Nope."

"Well, Thanks a lot," she said, dripping sarcasm.

"I was asleep!" he protested. "What happens if you don't take it? Do you get tired?"

"No," she said. "I get emotional."

"Oh," he said. "That could be bad at work."

"Yes, and then sometimes I get a bit pissed off."

"Oh," he said, "not good."

"Then the really weird thoughts come. I start to think about spousicide."

"You wha--?"

"Then there's the God phase," she said, "where I walk around raising my arm like this and pointing at people and yelling I SMITE THEE! I SMITE THEE!"

"Very funny," he sighed.

"What was the point where I still had you?" she giggled.

"Not telling," he said, grinning.

 

 For more He Said She Said, click here.

They were trying out a new grocery store they'd never been to before.  He was picking out vegetables and, when he looked up to see where she was, she'd disappeared.  

He looked around, and found her in the candy section, standing look up at 5 foot long plastic cylinders filled with brightly colored jelly beans, M&M's and other mysterious things.  Next to her were square plastic vats of various chocolate-nut combinations: double-dipped peanuts, chocolate covered almonds, peanut clusters.

"Do you want something from here?" he asked.

"No," she said.  "Just breathe..."

"Breathe?"

"Yes, take a deep breath, and smell it," she said.

"Ah," he said, sucking air through his nose.

"You see?" she said, smiling.  "This is like an olfactory Disneyland - it's the smell of the happiest place on earth!"

They kept walking and, as always, he turned around and found she'd wandered off.  He found her standing in front of the magazine rack, looking at things like Style and Vogue.  Tina Fey was on the cover of the latter.  She was, as he'd phrase it "the thinking man's crumpet*."

"That's just wrong," he said.

"What is?"

"Tina Fey all glammed up on the cover of Vogue."

"What's wrong about it?  She's a lovely woman.  She looks beautiful."

"She's not supposed to look beautiful!" he said.  "She's supposed to be our geeky girl, the female Clark Kent.  Seeing her like this... it's like seeing your sister naked."

They were standing in front of the fish counter.  He turned to her and pointed the index finger of his right hand diagonally at the ground, sticking his right leg out and shaking his booty every so slightly.

"What are you---" she said, and then she heard it: an instrumental version of Staying Alive was the current in-store muzak track.  She laughed, stepped up to him, hugged him and kissed him softly.

"I love you, you crazy bear" she said.

"Well thank God for that!" he said, and hugged her back.

* British slang for a hot woman.

To read more in the He Said She Said series, click here.

"NO!" she yelled.

"What are you yelling about?" he asked, coming into the kitchen

"What am I yelling about?" she snapped.  "What am I yelling about?  I'll TELL you what I'm yelling about.  

I'm yelling at our puppy who insists on licking the dishwasher every time I open it, even if it is covered in soap.

I'm yelling about the fact that I just scooped two tons of dog shit from the garden and had to wash away half of it with the hose because it was so wet from the rain.

I'm yelling about the fact that I just had to scrape dog shit off my shoe.

I'm yelling about the fact that there were paw prints in the dog shit, which means that we are literally living in shit.

I'm yelling about the fact that it took me half an hour to clear and clean the kitchen and I go into the lounge to sit down, and there are 7 cups, glasses and bowls in there with snotty tissues.

I'm yelling about the fact that I was finally hitting a great fitness routine, proud of myself that I'd gone to two aerobics classes and one yoga class in a week, and I injure my knee, like my body is betraying me.  Like I'm getting old.

I'm yelling about the fact that I took care of the dogs and the house and my job for ten days while you were overseas visiting your family and having exciting meetings for your start up and going to free parties and that, when you finally come home and I think you can help out, you're sick and lying asleep on the couch for a week.

I am yelling about the fact that, in all this, when I try to deal with my stress, you shit on me for having $76 massage, when the real reason we are up shit creek financially is that we are subsidizing your new business.

I'm yelling about the fact that I spent three days in a training course this week in the same room as the CIO, on my very best behavior, energy up and 'on' all the time, only to come back to the office to find a colleague in my team wants to leave because she used to be the star and now she thinks I'm showing her up.  So even in the one place - THE ONE PLACE - that I can be myself, be happy, show my capabilities, I now have to hold back to consider her feeeeeeelings.

I am yelling about the fact that I honestly cannot remember the last time I had any real, unbridled, joyous, cathartic, let-go, free-spirit FUN!

THAT'S WHAT I'M YELLING ABOUT."

He reached out to hold her, but she pushed him away.

There would be no simple resolution today.

To read more in the He Said She Said series, click here.

They were watching the Olympic Men's Figure Skating:

"They did a documentary segment yesterday," she said, "which was pretty amazing.  There's a Japanese female skater who, when she was sixteen, faxed a Russian coach to say she wanted to be coached by her.  She moved from Japan to Russia, gave up her citizenship, just to be coached by this tiny little woman who looks like Mrs Pepperpot."

"Wow," he said.

"Yeah, and then they did a segment about the Chinese.  When the Chinese first competed in pairs skating a few years ago, they were terrible, and the male skater was so embarrassed that he dedicated his life to working as a coach and bringing China to the top of figure skating.  They did an interview with him and he lives away from his family at some kind of government sports center.  He said that he saw his son as a baby and then saw him again when he was a toddler.  He started crying in the interview."

"Hmmm," he said.

"But the Chinese took gold and silver in the pairs skating, so that coach guy achieved what he wanted," she said.

"Wow," he said.

"I know!" she said.  "Isn't it incredible?  These people give up their whole lives for this sport, and it's not like they are David Beckham or Pete Sampras or Anna Kournikova.  There's no sponsorship, no advertising deals."

"Yeah," he said.

"The couple that won gold for the pairs are married, but they live in separate rooms in the sports center dorm and eat in the cafeteria.  You work your whole life for Olympic Gold and you're poor."

"Yes," he said.

"I mean, what do they become, right?  They gave up their school education and probably didn't go to University.  All they can do is become a coach.  After they get the medal, they're still poor."

"Yep," he said.

"And it's not like you can keep going on, like, beyond 35 or whatever.  Your body gives in.  What do they do afterwards?"

"Icescapades."

 

To see more in the He Said She Said series, click here. 

Her:  "I'm Fartacus..."

Him:  "No, I'M Fartacus!"

Her:  "It's a chocolate cupcake filled with caramel cream, topped w coconut buttercream, drizzled w caramel."

Him:  "Does it come with insulin?"

 Him:  "You see the one where they diagnosed the patient wrong but they got it right at the end of the episode?"

Her:  "ARGH! Why do you watch House?"

Her:  "AARGH!:

Him:  "What?  What?"

Her:  "My garbage disposal just ate the dish washing sponge."

Him:  "Sounds like it's throwing up..."

At the hardware store:

Her:  "I'm bored."

Him:  "We've been here 10 seconds!"

Her:  "Exactly."

Watching TV:

Her:  "I gotta go pee."

Him:  "Do you want me to pause?"

Her:  "No, I don't really care about Stargate."

Five minutes later...

Her:  "What's going on?  Why did she just do that to him?"

Him:  "AAAAARGH!"

Her:  "What?"

Him:  "You told me not to pause.  You said you didn't care."

Her:  "I don't!"

Five minutes later...

Her:  "I really don't get this..."

To see more in the He Said She Said series, click here.

He was in Europe.  He had left Baby Ruth bars hidden round the house for her Valentine's gift, and was texting clues to her every day. 

His text:  Tonight's clue: what off earth would these 21st century authors have to say out Ruth?

Her text:  How many did you hide? I have found 3 already before you sent me clues.  But you didn't send me a clue last night and I couldn't find one and I was mighty pissed.  Dogs confused as I ransacked house

His text:  Which ones did you already find?

Her text:  Coffee table, under my red hat, can't remember

His text:  When did you eat those?

Her text:  While you are on the plane.  

His text:  Piggy!

Her text:  Shut up.  You didn't send me a clue yesterday!

His text:  I was jetlagged!  Sorry!

Her text:  I can't find it!  I looked behind the Charles Dickens book!

His text:  TWENTY FIRST century writers!

Her text:  OK I got it!  Yum! 

His text:  Where did you look last night?

Her text:  Under all hats, basement, kitchen cupboards, bathroom, your office

His text:  LOL!

Her text:  Revenge WILL be mine....

The next day...

Her text:  Where's my clue for today?

His text:  Down in the depths above the sweet apples you'll find honey oaks and Ruths

Her text:  What?  You didn't bury one in the garden did you?

His text:  DOWN!!  Not out

Her text:  Been to basement.  We have no apples

His text:  There are no sweet apples of any kind?  REALLY???  

Her text:  No

His text:  No honey oats and stuff on the fucking box of canned pineapples?

Her text:  I'll look again.  You said apples not pineapples

His text:  It was cryptic!!!

Her text:  I saw Nature's Valley Oats Honey bars, that's all

The phone rang. 

"All the women with us in the pub agree that you are being very silly and that I am VERY romantic!" he yelled.

"I found it five minutes ago," she said, chewing.  "That was revenge for the night you didn't send me a clue."

"I can't BELIEVE you!" he laughed.  He spoke away from the phone:  "She was fucking with me.  That was revenge for the other night."  Laughter echoed in the background.

"I think I like your wife," a female voice said.

"So you told them about that?" she asked.

"Yes.  They said jetlag was no excuse."

"I think I like Drew and Deb's friends," she said.  Then: "I love you, Baby."

"I love you too, you crazy woman," he said.

"Call me before you go to bed."

"I will!  Bye, Honey."

"Bye..." 

She made kissing noises, and then settled back to enjoy the rest of the candy bar.

To see more He Said She Said, click here.

"I'm going to miss you," she said.  "These yearly business trips at Valentine's suck."

"I'm sorry, Baby," he said.  "But it's a big conference.  I have to go."

"I know you do," she sighed.

"I'm going to miss you," he said, stroking her arm.

"I'm going to miss you, too," she said.

They lay still for a while... Then:  "Did you pick up your knee brace from the pharmacy?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.  "And I definitely don't have a Baby Ruth bar in my bag.  And I didn't have to ask three different staff until I found them, including making the cashier come out from behind the counter and hold up the whole line."

He laughed.

"Well, there may be a few more of them around the house," he said, "and you'll only find them when I text you clues from London."

She burst out laughing.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he said.

 

To read more He Said She Said, click here. 

 

"Thanks for picking me up from work, Honey," she said.

"That's OK, Baby," he said. "I think you'll like dinner tonight," he added.

"Ooh!" she said. "What is it?"

"It's Julia Childs' Boeuf Bourgingnon."

"Hang on a second," she said. "We watched Julie and Julia and you, the HUSBAND, got inspired?"

"Yes! What's wrong with that?"

"Absolutely nothing," she said. "In fact, quite the opposite. See THIS is why I tell people that you're a Keeper!"

"Damn right!" he said. "And don't you forget it!"

To read more He Said She Said, click here. 

"What the hell are we going to do with all your books when they arrive from the UK?" she said.

"I've got it all planned out," he said.  "We're going to redo the basement."

"Really?" she said.

"Yes.  Come with me," he said, leading her down the steps into the murky depths, "I'll show you."

He spread his arms, gesturing in the open area.

"There will be three spaces," he said.  "The bookshelves will go along these two walls, with the TV, games and sofa here to complete the Man Cave.  Then this area will be walled off and be the laundry room.  Then under the stairs will be a storage closet."

"Hang on a minute!" she said.  "You have an office upstairs and now you get a Man Cave down here?  Whenever I have admin stuff to do, I have to use the dining room table!  Where's my space?"

"I've already explained that," he sighed, pointing.  "You have the laundry room."

Violence ensued.

 

 

They were parking the car in front of the house.

"So," he said.  "We've done the grocery shopping, we've planned the menu.  It's 2pm.  We still have to clean the house, I have to start the cooking and we have to walk the dogs so they'll be tired enough tonight to not drive our guests insane."

"Agreed," she said.

"Right," he said.  "You walk the dogs and I'll clean the house and start the cooking."

"Deal!" she said.

They went in, unpacked the groceries and had a sandwich for lunch.

"OK," she said, "I'm walking the dogs."

"Both of them?"

"Sure."

"You're a braver man then me," he said.

"I'm not a man, but I won't dispute the rest of that," she said.

 Ten minutes later, she was back.

"This isn't working," she said, sending one of the dogs into the house.

Forty minutes later, she returned and swapped the dogs over.  The vacuum cleaner was out, and the beef was roasting in the oven.

"Next!" she said, disappearing out the door with dog number 2.

Another half hour later, she got home, sighing with exhaustion.  The puppy still wasn't controllable on a leash.

"You won't fucking believe this," she said.  "I threw a stick for her in the park and - what are the odds? - the stick fell vertically into the mud and stuck up like a spike, and she went for it and it scraped the back of her throat.  She vomited.  We have to check that she's OK."

They spent the next ten minutes wrestling with the puppy, trying to see the back of her throat.  There was a dark pink scrape, but it didn't seem to be bleeding.

Crisis over, she started to lay the table, finding a tablecloth and opening the new pack of linen napkins.

"Uh, Honey?" she called.

"What?" he said, walking into the dining room.

"Don't you think that we should take these clothes drying on the radiator away?"

"Oh, yeah," he said.  "Our guests probably don't want to see our laundry, even if it is clean."

He took the clothes away.

They kept preparing in silence, until...

"Uh, Honey?" she called.

"What?" he said walking into the lounge.

"I've moved the armchair because there are going to be six people, and the floor behind it is hairball central."

"But I swiffer dusted there!" he said.

He stomped off to get the handheld vacuum, and sucked up enough hair to make a new puppy ear.

More preparations, clanging in the kitchen, wine glasses laid out on the table.

He walked to the bathroom to take a leak, only to find her frantically scrubbing the basin.

"I need to pee," he said.

"Too bad," she snapped, turning the tap on to wash the cleaning fluid away.

"I just hadn't got to the bathroom yet," he said, sighing.

"Honey," she snapped, "the bathroom is VITAL to clean when you have people over.  It's the only time during the evening that they are alone and can actually look at your house.  It's like seeing the bathroom in a restaurant.  If you see a speck of dirt you start to wonder how clean the kitchen is and get nervous about eating your food."

"I never think that," he said.

"Well I DO!" she yelled.  "And I'm the one who gets judged when our guests see dog hairs and dirt in that little space behind the toilet seat!"

"I cooked AND cleaned!" he yelled back.

And so it began.

A game that started years ago in the marriage.

The "How many things did you do vs. how many things I did" game.

It went on for about five minutes.

They were saved by the bell - a reminder peep from the oven, calling him in to check the beef.

She finished cleaning, watched her hands, and walked into the kitchen.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"What?" he said, leaning closer, craning his left ear towards her mouth.

"I said I was blefigilmil," she said.

"Well I'm blefigilmil too," he smiled.

"Would you like a glass of wine while you finish cooking?" she asked.  It was a peace offering.

They hugged, they sipped some wine, and everything was OK again.

 

 

 

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They were in the car, and passed a young woman wearing a purple floral coat, black miniskirt, yellow tights with bright blue knee-high socks on top of them.

"Somewhere, deep inside her," he said, "there's a fashion statement trying to break out."

She laughed.

They kept driving.  

Traffic came to a stop on a small, suburban street.  There were men in bright orange safety vests.  

As they crept along, they saw a big truck with a hose, and men cleaning out the sewers.

"You see, kids?" he said.  "THIS is what we're talking about when we tell you to work hard in school and make good life choices."

"Damn!" she said.  "You are ON FIRE today!"

She licked her finger, touched his shoulder and said:

"TSSSST!"

 

"Thank you for cooking, Honey," he said.

"It's OK," she said.  "You're sick."

 

LATER...

 

"Uh, Honey?" he said, from the couch.

"What?"

"You can't do the laundry at the same time as cooking," he said.

"I'm a woman," she yelped.  "We juggle!"

 

LATER...

 

"Honey?" he said.

"What?"

"This soaking the Pad Thai noodles thing isn't working.  I think we need to just boil them."

"OK, I'll do that.  Now go lie down and watch TV."

 

LATER...

 

"AARGH!" she yelled.

"What?  What?"  He ran into the kitchen.

"I spilled water from the noodles pan in the hot oil in the wok," she said.

"Don't do that, Honey," he said.

"Well I didn't do it on purpose!" she snapped.  "It was an accident!"

"OK, OK," he said, "I'm leaving the kitchen."

 

LATER...

 

"Um... Honey?" he said.

"What?"

"What sauce did you use?"

"The one you told me to.  General Tsao thingy."

"But there's a lot of liquid..."

"Well, it was burning so I added water."

He resisted saying anything about the juggling laundry thing.

Instead:

"Honey, it's a stir fry, not SOUP!"

"Oh, shut up!" she said.  "I've got it on a simmer, and the water is boiling off."

He stirred the pot.

"NO!" she yelled.  "Don't scrape the burnt bits off the bottom!  Then we'll have to eat it!"

"OK, but..."

"You see? You see?  This is why!"

"This is why what?"

"This is why YOU COOK!  Stop being sick!"

"OK, OK, I'll get out of the kitchen..."

"Yes!  Go!"

"But before I do..."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

 

LATER...

 

"Well?  What do you think?" she asked.

"It's very nice, Honey," he said.

"You better rest tomorrow," she said, "because you're cooking!"