“Honey!! Can you make me some popcorn?” he yelled from the living room. God I hate his voice. Whispering I am not your maid, doesn’t come out loud enough, but gives me enough patience to get up from the table I just cleaned and place a bag of popcorn in the microwave.
Seriously it’s just putting a bag in the oven, how hard can it be. “Honey? Did you hear me?” Just because you add ‘Honey’ before every line doesn’t make you decent, you idiot. I am sure he can hear the microwave door shut, the popping of the corn, yet he needs me to answer it for him. Some sort of Yes, my dear husband. At your service always.
My mom used to complain to me about such non stop slavery to your man. I pull out a bowl, gazing at the oven for it to be done. She used to tell me how she had to do everything from handing him water to picking up the glass wherever he left. It’s just like living with a big baby, she used to say and I never doubted her. My father was incapable of doing any mundane work by himself. I pull out the bag and tear it off carefully, pouring the contents into the bowl.
“Oh! I am smelling yum!” Oh yes you are! you nimwit. I take the bowl to him, throwing the bag into trash on my way out of the kitchen. I pause just outside the kitchen, to admire this lifelike human being. How did he go from able to live alone for five years before he met me to this lazy bummed irritating not even pretty for the eye anymore child.
“Hey! What you waiting for honey? Hand me the bowl.” How he says that without even drifting his eyes. ‘Sweetheart?’ ugh makes me gag saying it. “Yea Honey?” ‘Remember the cupboard above the kitchen counter, where we put all our Microwave meals?’ still can’t get a look form him, “Yea, Why? Is it bugs again?” Oh good he remembers. ‘No baby, no bugs’ the bugs which I sprayed away every single time. Could just say what I want to and leave but where is the thrill in that, just a few more seconds and there it is, his big brown eyes finally turn aiming straight for the bowl.
‘We still keep our popcorn there, I am guessing you can still operate a microwave, “Baby”. I am going to my room.’ and now I walk away, up the stairs happy as a bird. Stopping on the top step I turn to look at his lost puppy eyes ‘Oh I almost forgot, I just made the last extra butter one,’ your favorite isn’t it, ‘guess you’ll have to make plain popcorn now’ and whoosh, dramatic turn and off we go!!