Yesterday, when I walked in the back door after work I was greeted by the most wonderful sight and smell.
Sight: Clean kitchen and all the dishes washed and drying on the dish rack.
Smell: Brownies baking in the oven.
What the hell was going on?
I wondered if my mom had made a surprise visit. It would not be unlike her to wash my dishes. And start cooking something. One time I came home after they showed up on a Saturday morning in January and my mom was shoveling the back walk with a little plastic shovel. There was 2 millimeters of snow covering it.
I grew up in a house where if you weren't DOING something, you'd better have a reason why. Like tuberculosis or Ebola or a severed limb.
I find Matt examining his Fantasy Football scores. "What's going on?" I ask him. "You're baking brownies."
"I have dinner ready, too."
I forgot that Matt had the day off from work, therefore he was being a good little wife and had dinner ready for me.
"Dinner? You MADE dinner?"
"All by myself."
He tells me to sit down before I faint. I'm interested to see this made from scratch dinner.
"It's all my favorite things to eat," he says.
"How many courses?"
First course is shrimp cocktail with spicy sauce.
Second course is fresh Italian bread with olive oil and kalamata olives.
Third course is sushi (from the deli at Kowalski's).
Dessert is brownies and ice cream.
I drink a glass of Cabernet.
It is AWESOME and is just like a dinner I would order if I were going to be executed.
We stuff our faces and watch The Family Guy and the Simpson's. I'm extremely happy with my choice of husband.
I look at him as I sip my wine. "Thank you for dinner."
He shoves three spicy tuna rolls in his mouth and grunts back, "Urrmmppfff."
YOU COMPLETE ME.