Salt, Pepper & a Rub of Oil

This evening I cooked a lovely dinner: steamed broccoli with a creamy cheese sauce, wild rice and baked salmon… Ain’t that nice? I even baked grabbed a bunch of fresh dinner buns from the market because who has time for the art of bread making, I say?!

Figuring out how I would do the salmon took a fair bit of time, would it be a citrus, would it be a sweet caramel glaze… Neither apparently, because I was out of lemons and the horrific brown sugar concoction I whisked up would not even satisfy the neighborhood stray, so I sent it on its way swimming in subterranean bliss. Instead, we settled on simplicity: salt & pepper and a rub of olive oil. Works every time. I am proud to say there were no flames and nothing burned. Yay me!

It was like, magic.

That is, until someone decided to ram their fork into the fish and then shove the fork in their gaping mouth, only to return to dip one of them fresh dinner buns from the market into the creamy cheese sauce, slop that shit onto the floor and mosey on.

I flipped. Out. More so on the inside. But nonetheless.

The queen bee was en-fuckin-raged… And she had quite the time trying to control herself from picking up the pot, buzzin' around and painting the walls.

This is so unlike her…she really is not a raging maniac…really. But these little things keep on piling up and they are starting to take their toll, causing hissy-fits and making her think all kinds of silly little thoughts and question her last threads of sanity.

All I would like is some appreciation…is that such an absurd and foreign desire? To feel loved and appreciated… I’m no Mother Teresa out there saving the world or anything, but I do care about the little things, and I wish you would too.

It would be nice to know that you appreciate when I cook for you and don’t jump the gun by diving in post-baked with a sudden urge for munchie-madness. It would be nice to come home and have the dishes done once in a while. It would be nice to have the bed made and the clothes picked up and the shoes put away and the toilet put down and the mirror free of toothpaste splatters and floss mush and the stinky shower curtain closed and the clutter that is staring back at me from every angle and every corner like the monster under my childhood bed, put away! Once in a while.

Even though you might not care, or should I say, obviously don’t care about the state of your environment; to put in a little effort sometimes, would be really nice. It might even make me want to do those little things for you more often.

Sigh. I am a demanding, psychotic, obsessive-compulsive, raging maniac.

Brought to you by your friendly neighbourhood P.M.S.

That's all folks!