My natural instinct is to dislike anything that requires me to work more. No, I am not lazy. I just cannot stand having to clean up after someone else when I am busy cleaning up after myself all day long.
For this reason, I have made it very clear to Mr Fussy that he is not welcomed in my kitchen.
Mr Fussy renovated our 111 year old (tiny) farm house before we were married. It was actually just before he proposed. So whenever he consulted my opinion on the renovations, I could only say, “Well, if it were my house then I would do...” I now know that his timing was all a cunning plan to keep costs down.
The pre-renovated kitchen was awful. Worse was the Auschwitz style bathroom, but the kitchen had benches that came up to my thighs (and I am not a tall person), mustard paint, a baptismal font-sized sink and one peep through window. Had I known that this would be my kitchen one day, an entire wall would have been knocked out and the key word would have been “expansion”.
But as it is, I ended up with a few more windows, off-white cupboards, and normal height benches. It is, however, still a small kitchen. There is approximately 15 times more surface space in the farm workshop than there is in my kitchen (I calculated this in an effort to argue the need for a Thermomix. It didn’t work.). So I do not like it when someone else is in my limited space.
More than that, I do not like it when someone comes in and uses my kitchen when I am not looking. It’s not that I am a control freak, but there is a basic element of order that must be maintained in a small space to keep it running efficiently.
When Mr Fussy uses my kitchen ... well, let’s just say, it isn’t pretty. If you asked him, he would say that he needs only one pan to cook in. A wok.
He prides himself on being able as a bachelor to have cooked any number of dishes in a wok. Penne in a wok, spaghetti in a wok, and of course a stir fry in a wok.
Now whether he feels that he should expand his repertoire, or that there are just a lot more pans to choose from, he definitely uses more than a wok when he’s in my kitchen.
I won’t even comment on the quality of the dishes he serves up. I’m not one for chunks of food and an over abundance of chilli. But what really makes my stomach turn is the end result in my kitchen.
|This is not my actual kitchen, but you get the picture|
It is for this reason that I am diligent about never leaving him to cook his own meal. If I have to go out at night, I leave him a meal on a plate. If he works late and comes home after we’ve all eaten, I leave him a meal on a plate. Anyone looking in would think I am a doting housewife. Believe me I am not. I am just preserving my sanity.
If only I had suggested a door be put on the kitchen, then I could lock it.
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Life With A Fussy Eater. If you've been playing along at home you'd realize that that makes her the creator of HealthyChart and therefore my fabulous AusBlogCon title sponsor!
She moved all the way from New York City to the Fussy Farm in rural WA where she fell in luuuurve and never looked back. She lives on the land, amongst the sheep, with Mr Fussy and The Darlings (pictured with her on the right - is that not the most photogenic family ever?).
She blogs about food & nutrition, being an Uber Mum (yes, she says Mum not Mom - she's fully Ausmerican now), the original Fussy Eater and how awesome it is to be my sponsor. You can tell her I'm the best Sponsorette in town by chatting to her on Twitter - she's still new on there so be gentle.
Next week: A missing gadget or missing memories from Three Lil' Princesses'
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