So it happens with every book. Deadline hell. This means that I do nothing but panic and angst and work like a fiend, because no matter how far out I set the deadlines, I come up against that deadline. Stupid procrastination. Stupid writer brain...
ANYWAY, what this means for the family is that there's more than the usual insanity. After a week of poor Alpha Man having to do absolutely everything including laundry (if he wanted undies) and food shopping (if he wanted food) and start the holiday shopping (if he wanted Santa to come), I decided I was being a horrible person. I said I'd cook dinner.
Cut to six o'clock and I realized my nose had been in my book all day and I hadn't done anything to get dinner together. Gah. I scoured the kitchen for possibilities. I found leftover ribs, a can of corn and a can of baked beans. Genius! I tossed the ribs into the microwave and cranked open the cans and wala! Dinner!
Alpha Man walked in five minutes later and nearly fell over when I said i had dinner ready. Hmph. He actually thought I'd be waiting on him to figure dinner out like usual. Note to self: cook more often so as to not give the husband a shock.
We sat down to eat and afterwards I told him the dishes were on him since I'd slaved over dinner.
He laughed for the next half an hour and kept shaking his head and repeating "slaved over dinner" like I'd said the funniest thing in the world. Damn. Note to self: don't offer to cook dinner ever again!
p.s. You the cook? Or the one who amuses the cook?