Bridgette and I made our first dinner together last night.
No, it wasn’t what you probably think. It wasn’t a meal of frozen pizza, or eating tuna out of a tin with our fingers since all the silverware was dirty or anything like that. We made some delicious vegetable wraps, using a simple recipe shared by our domestically-inclined friend Arlene. It was nice to prepare a meal together, although the cramped confines of our kitchen made it somewhat problematic. I would guess that Timothy McVeigh spent his final tortured days in greater luxury than our tiny kitchen affords.
I decided to spice my wrap up with a little chicken, since my wife is apparently a vegetarian. The meal was delicious, with the peppers and onions perfectly flavoring the chunks of poultry-flesh. Bridgette was noticeably alarmed when I barked hoarsely in satisfied approval of her food-offerings. I tenderly explained to her that shouting in haggard tones and squeezing meat and overripe vegetables in my fists was merely my love language, and that I wished to receive affection from her in the same way. Having explained these things, I then proceeded to belch the periodic table of elements, much to her satisfaction.
Yeah, married life is pretty much like I pictured it.
Belated Congrats to you and Bridgette!
Having roomed with Bridgette at the last Rock retreat, I can
tell you she handles small spaces just fine.
And apparently belches and hollaring, too.
I always get hung up at Feldspar. May your marriage eventually contain one mole of belch gas per million parts.
I’m glad to see that you are using the word “haggard” again.