the husband

I’m not the kind of person who likes to go around talking about my husband all the time. Sure, I’m rather fond of the tall, bald guy who occupies half (sometimes a little more) of my bed, but I don’t feel the need to slip him into every single conversation or drag him everywhere I go. I prefer instead to show my love in little ways, like picking up his favorite candy bar from the store or buying tickets to a show I know he wants to see. He doesn’t often think of himself, so I like to do that for him.

Of course, food is a big deal in our house. Since I joined the roller derby team I find myself eating more and sleeping less, so our typical Saturday mornings find me wide awake at 7 a.m., waiting patiently for The Husband to get up so I have company. After I have my bowl of cereal I usually stick my head back in the fridge to see what else we have, which is when I also notice the leftovers gathering in the corners. The Husband is a champ at getting rid of leftovers, and I like to do nice things for him and expedite the waking-up process so I have someone to talk to, so we end up with this:

Tomatoes, potatoes, Wendy’s chili, pepperjack cheese, and eggs.

It’s a win-win situation: I get rid of leftovers and he practically throws a parade because he thinks I’m the best wife ever. I only wish we had some sour cream to put on top, but he seemed happy anyway. It’s my own way of thanking him for putting up with the late nights when I come home sweaty and exhausted, the long days when I’m traveling to eastern Kentucky for my job, and the “dumbass” in “Dumbass Gourmet.” (In case you were wondering, Attempt #2 at eggplant was absolutely dismal as well.) He’s a trooper, and I’m glad I found him.