I know I'm not exactly a candidate for Top Chef. I have no natural talent for the culinary arts, but I've come a long way from my college days of eating Rice A Roni for dinner 4 nights in a row. Sure, I've had my share of disasters. There was the pumpkin roll cake that did not roll, nor did it taste like pumpkin. There was that casserole dish that just sort of fell apart that one time. And my family still likes to bring up the time when we were having Grands rolls with dinner (pretty much every night when we were growing up), and I decided to save the roll for last, since those Grands biscuits are amazingly delicious. Well, my roll got cold and I wanted it warm, so I asked my mom if I could put it in the microwave. She said sure. I asked for how long. She said oh, about 10.
A few minutes later my brother noticed a strange smell, a smell that was distinctly different from the fallout from my family's regular dinner table farting competitions. "Ew, what's that smell?" he asked. Because, you know, someone who is fond of weighing himself before and after he visits the bathroom and then announcing the difference has easily offended sensibilities.
But there was a smell, and I jumped up, remembering that my biscuit was still in the microwave. I took it out, and it looked like a lump of coal. A sad, ugly lump of coal. "How long did you put that in there for?" my mother asked incredulously, and I replied that I'd put it in for ten minutes, just like she'd told me to. Of course, she meant 10 seconds, and I really think this was a lesson in how people should really learn to be more specific when giving directions.
I can take a joke, and I'll be the first to admit that my cooking isn't going to win me any prizes at the county fair, but honestly? I do not think it's "bad". More like "limited in scope". I've come a long way. Sure, there have been a few meals that I would rather not remember, but there are several things I do really well now. Oh, and also? I am not completely retarded.
Where is this going? Well, on Tuesday night as we were lying on the couch trying to decide what to have for dinner, I voted for pizza and Joel voted for pasta (we're all about the nutrition here). Since we there was no meat defrosted for the pasta sauce, I suggested that we have pizza on Tuesday and pasta on Wednesday (I'm all about the fairness).
On Wednesday morning, true to my bargain, I took out some ground beef from the freezer and put it on a plate in the toaster oven to defrost. Before you think that I'm toasting my ground beef, let me assure you: NO. It's just where we put things to defrost, because the other options are 1. The fridge (too slow), 2. the oven or microwave (opaque doors, will be forgotten), or 3: the counter (have I ever mentioned that I own cats?).
After work and a trip to the gym, I arrived home and noticed that Joel had moved the ground beef to the fridge. I wondered if he had come home between work and coaching, but when I poked the meat (I'm also very scientific), it was still frozen, so I knew he must have put it in the fridge right after I left for work in the morning. I guessed that he must have thought it had been out all night defrosting (even though it was still frozen solid, as a he would have seen if he's just poked it), so he put it in the fridge just to be safe.
(I swear this is going somewhere.)
(Also, I should mention that we buy meat at Sam's club, because we are the stingy people who look at the price per pound on EVERYTHING at the grocery store. Sam's has good deals on meat, and we just divide the chicken/pork/beef up when we get home, wrap it in Saran Wrap, and freeze what we can't use in a week or so.)
I took the meat back out and put it in the toaster oven again and went upstairs to take a shower. While I was in the shower, Joel arrived home. As we were settling onto the couch for the night, I announced I was going to go make dinner, as I do most nights. Joel did ask if I needed any help, which I'll give him credit for. I said I didn't really need any help to make pasta, so he could clean off the coffee table (aka our dining room table) instead, since it was covered in all sorts of nastiness.
Just as I was about to put the meat in the microwave to defrost, Joel came downstairs to get the vacuum, and freaked out that I was about to put the ground beef in the freezer with the saran wrap still on it. I told him, 1. I have done this a million times before, and the plastic wrap has never melted before, 2. please don't walk in and tell me all the things I'm doing wrong, YOU KNOW THAT DRIVES ME CRAZY. I started to put it in the microwave again, and he started to protest again, saying crap about how it was going to release CFCs and melt into the beef and poison us. I rebutted that when you try to remove the plastic wrap from frozen solid ground beef, some of the plastic gets stuck in the nooks and crannies, and then I have to try to make sure I pick them all out when the meat is defrosted. You want to know how I know? I HAVE DONE THIS A MILLION TIMES BEFORE, AND I'VE LEARNED A THING OR TWO.
Joel would not let it go, and this ended with me storming upstairs. I told him if he honestly thought I was incapable of making pasta THE SAME WAY I ALWAYS MAKE IT (AND WE HAVEN'T DIED YET, HAVE WE) then he could just cook the damn dinner himself. He did, and I watched Tivo-ed episodes of Gilmore Girls and One Tree Hill while we ate, just to piss him off. He hates those shows as much as I hate Battlestar Gallactica and Naruto, and usually I watch them when he's not around.
I promise that after I finish writing this, I'm going to let it go. But I want to know, what do you think? I am I overreacting? Is this a problem anyone else deals with?
I'm a little sensitive to the issue because I do 80-90% of the housework. We've been trying to find a way around this for.... let's just say "a long time", but nothing has worked. We tried a checklist, dividing chores up, making a schedule, Joel promising to just do more, etc etc etc. And after a week or two, I'm getting mad again because I just can't find time to vacuum the bedroom, finish the laundry, wash all the dishes in the sink, pick up all the clutter on the floor.... I HATE feeling like a nag, and I HATE asking Joel to do specific tasks like emptying the dishwasher or folding the laundry. It makes me feel like his mother, and although he always does what I ask, I don't want to have to ask. (I know I sound like Jennifer Aniston in The Breakup, but I want him to want to do the dishes). But my only other option is to feel like an underpaid maid, and that's no good either. Well, I guess there's another option, which is actually the one I've been choosing lately: live in a house that looks like crap. Cat hair tumbleweeds blowing across the hardwood floors, pulling things directly out of the dryer when I need clean pants or socks, piling up dishes in the sink and shoving all the papers on the desk out of my way when I need to use the computer. The problem with this is, clutter makes me nervous. I'm no neatfreak, but the feeling that everything is going to hell around me makes me unhappy. And so, I start cleaning, and then getting mad that I'm not getting any help, and then we're back to square one. Joel once made a comment, something like "but you love cleaning." Um, NO. I am not insane. I do not LIKE cleaning. But I do love not living in a messy house, so cleaning is necessary.
So, anyway. I have no darling solution or epiphany to end this with. Joel is cooking dinner for the rest of the week. I did help by taking some chicken out of the freezer to defrost this morning; I cut him a break there since he left for practice at 5:15am. But I put it in the toaster oven to defrost, and if I hear any comments about how it's been out too long now and we're going to get salmonella... well, I don't know. But it won't be pretty.
hmmmmmmm where to begin? first of all...first story? hilarious! just 10!
as for the chore dividing thing? if anything I am the Joel in our relationship, the messier one. I think you have a few options:
1. come to an agreement that Joel just simply needs to be asked specifically to do things. And that when he is asked he happily does them. And that these asks are NOT considered naggings. And then? You just have to get over the fact that you don't want to ask, because at least it gets the job done and it's what you've agreed on.
2. You decide that you will do 50% of the cleaning (give or take, but about half) and that a cleaning lady will be hired for the other half, and it comes out of Joel's fun money (I am assuming he has money he would rather spend on XYZ than a cleaning lady...just an assumption here)
3. You accept that by living with and loving Joel, you will just be the primary housecleaner. It's part of the deal. But any of the things YOU don't like doing (yardwork, kitty litter, home maintenance, grocery shopping? I dunno what that thing is that you don't like) - Joel has got to do most of it. Somehow make it an even trade.
As for the cooking thing, we also run into this sometimes. I guess sometimes you have to let him have it his way, and sometimes he has to eat the damn CFCs. At my house, some nights we use that nasty pre-minced garlic that I hate, other nights we use the fresh stuff. Nobody is dead yet.
Hope this isn't assvice?
Posted by: janet | Thursday, January 25, 2007 at 07:59 PM