Hand and Foot

A few weeks ago I came home between 7:30 and 8pm, as I do two nights a week now.  My husband was relaxing in the recliner in the front room, watching tv and reading on his cell phone.  I walked through to the kitchen and put down my purse and bags.  Then I went back and asked him if he'd like grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner.  He said yes, and I asked if he'd like to eat them in the recliner.  He said no, and I started back to the kitchen.  Then he said, "You don't have to wait on me hand and foot, you know."

Hearing that, I whipped back to the front room and said, "I have been coming home two nights a week between 7:30 and 8pm for three months now.  Not once when you have come home before me have you made dinner, been in the process of making dinner, or have bought dinner at a fast food place and brought it home to share with me.  Not once.  Each time you wait for me to produce dinner after I come home.  So, yes, I do think I wait on you hand and foot."

We ate grilled cheese sandwiches at the table.

The next time he got home before me he opened a can of chili, added cut up hotdogs and ham to it and called it "meat lover's chili."  It was hot and delicious.  I thanked him, and told him how tasty it was.  He has made two more meals since then and it's good to know that he still can make dinner.