A letter to my husband

Dear Mr. Strong,

Let me apologize for being so grumpy with you this morning. While I appreciate your efforts in emptying the dishwasher, your Dishwasher Lesson 101 did anger me. You pointed out that the placement of this one ridiculous coffee cup basically caused the rest of the dishes to have spots. I instantly became defensive much like you do when your artist friend who still has shag carpet from the 1970s gives you decorating advice.

Had I tried to use the weed whacker or the foliage rocket (credit given to Ann for that term), I would completely understand your need and desire to lecture me on the proper uses.

Since this is my blog, I'd like to point out a few things you may have missed because I probably have control issues.

Take note of the location of the coffee cup.

According to you, this little cup stopped all the water from being sprayed upwards in the appropriate manner because it wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that our dishwasher is probably approaching it's second decade otherwise known as the sucky years (in dishwasher years, that is). This cup was the bird to your airplane engine, the match to your forest fire.

I'd like to point out where I think the water spray comes from. And I don't know for sure but I'm pretty sure these little arms are a-spinning when the dishwasher is trying to wash washing.



Also, let us take a moment to gander at the tubing. In my imagination, that tubing should be clear and not clogged with chunks of debris much like cholesterol clogs arteries. By all appearances, Dexter the Dishwasher could be having a stroke at any moment. I'm no doctor (or mechanic) and I could be totally wrong damnit! but it may be time to start thinking about a new dishwasher.

Regardless, let us just stick to what works for us. You cook. I clean. And don't even think about discussing anything about how I do the laundry because I'm afraid I may have a black out rage attack and you could be hurt.

And while I've got your attention, I do appreciate that you are cooking for some of our friends who had to move out of their flooded house. Your sense of humor is always appreciated by me. I hope they knew you were kidding with the first dish.

This is really Chicken Fried Rice not Chicken Tar Tar Fried Rice.

It was hard to give them this container because I wanted to keep it and hold it and eat it all by myself.

This was the best Pad Thai stuff I've ever had!


All my love,


P.S. The cable just came back on! It is a Passover miracle!

P.P.S. How could you?! You told Single Guy about my blog. With him living in our apartment, he is going to be GREAT blog fodder. You've got to fix this. Lie. Make up something. But don't tell Single Guy that I am making fun writing about him.