As I write this, my work shirts are still hanging on the line. There was some serious torrential rain last night, and then another morning shower just a few minutes ago. Keep your fingers crossed that I don’t have to blow dry a shirt this morning. Sometimes I really miss having a dryer. Now on to the real scoop.
Yesterday I woke up all eager to get the house cleaned. I didn’t have to go into work until 1:00, leaving me plenty of time to do chores, buy groceries, and get myself ready with virtually no stress. It was lovely. Who knew I’d be so domestic so early in the morning. And I might try to squeeze more cleaning and shopping in today, as well.
After working my shift and NOT getting to tell my boss I was going to quit because she wasn’t there, I came home and made creamy masala chicken for my husband. Indian food is his absolute favorite. I hate it. I’ve been sick at least twice after eating Indian food. Not really the food’s fault, but still, it’s a bad association. But he keeps insisting that I shouldn’t make it if I’m not going to eat it.
*It just started raining again. Your finger-crossing is not working. Try harder, people.*
Anyway, he never lets me make him curry, so I had to agree to eat it this time if he was going to get it. It was a surprisingly simple recipe I got out of a British food magazine. Apparently there wasn’t enough sauce, but it tasted okay, for what it was. The problem with Indian food is that there’s no cheese. This is why, in my opinion, Mexican food is far superior. I’m trying to teach my husband to love Mexican food. It’s definitely growing on him. But for now, I’ll make the sacrifice and eat masala chicken because I love him so very much. Every relationship requires sacrifice, and if this is all I have to do, I’ll take it.