“You’re doing it wrong!”, my wife said.
“I’m used to hearing that in the bedroom.”, I told her, “But I’m only making a peanut butter and jam sandwich in the kitchen.”
“But you’re doing that wrong, too.”, she continued.
“Really?”, I asked, with just the right amount of sarcasm to piss her off.
“Yes, you are.”, she continued. “You’re supposed to put the jam on top of the peanut butter, not on the other piece of bread. If you do it your way, jam winds up dropping all over the counter when you flip the slice.”
“Well”, I told her, “I have been making it this way for 55 years. Its how I want to do it.”
“But its wrong!”, she repeated. Wrong or not, I proceeded to complete the sandwich making festivities, and enjoyed building my PB & J, as I have always done.
It wasn’t the first time I have been been told that I am wrong in the kitchen. In actuality, I think the only room I do not do anything wrong in, is the bathroom. NO. Not true. I have, according to my wife, been wrong in the bathroom as well, but that will be a whole other story.
So, back to the kitchen. I have been informed that I do not make over easy eggs correctly, either. I do not know how to flip them properly, to ensure even cooking without any breaks or ruptures of the yolk. Sometimes, she says that she even finds shell in it! There have been many times when she has given me directions as I am holding a spatula and a frying pan, and it is with great restraint that 1 or both of these items has not been formally introduced to the back of her head. “Do you want to do it for me?”, I ask.
“No.”, she answered.
“Then go away.”, I tell her.
“You don’t have to be so nasty.”, she says.
“Um, yes I do.”, I advise her, “If you don’t like how I do it, then do it for me, or be quiet.”
“I’m just trying to help you.”, she answered.
“What would be really helpful would be if you just made it for me.”, I said.
“You’ll never learn that way.”, she told me.
There are also huge issues with grilled cheese, as I apparently have the burner set too high, and this makes the bread too dark and crispy for her. And coffee, well that’s entirely an issue that will never go away. She will ask me to make her coffee, and insist that the milk must go into the cup before the coffee. “I don’t like the milk in first.”, I tell her.
“But it tastes so much better.”, she replies.
“I don’t think so.”, I respond.
“No. It does.”, she says. “. It tastes better that way.”
So, I make coffee wrong, as well. And pasta, well, it seems that I don’t make it ‘mushy’ enough for her. I follow the directions, and wind up with wonderfully al dente pasta. She hates it. She says that its too hard. “Why can’t I hear that in the bedroom?”, I ask.
We agree to a compromise. I agree that she is, as usual absolutely right. In exchange, I get to practice pleasing her in the bedroom. I am not sure if she plans on joining me there or not, but either way, one of us is going to be happy.