Smallhouse Log

Tuesday, twelfth week of Winter

Plan Ιγ achieving solid results. There was a brief hiccup around the time of the Folk Festival, of course, but I'm getting back on track. I'm happier, the house is cleaner, but there's one part that is not working like it should.

Monday and Tuesday are my 'weekend', and I had scheduled the same hours I would normally work as 'work time' for personal projects, programming, finishing the second bedroom, et cetera. The trouble is, Claire has her own plans for this time. She wants to do things together, which I like, but what she wants to do together is almost always plan, shop for, and cook a huge meal together; this can be, and generally is, a bit trying.

Justifiably nervous about appearing to complain about my wife online, let me explain: I enjoy cooking with Claire, very much. I enjoy eating the food we cook together, VERY MUCH. I am willing to go shopping, since a woman with a baby cannot carry much by herself and she likes to have me with her. And of course, it is frustrating to me to burn an entire evening (with much dilly-dallying) helping, at best, on one project, especially on what is nominally my day off. But I do all this with a glad heart and a smile on my face.

Menu planning, though, is fast earning an unredeemable black mark in my book. If I initiate the menu planning, whatever I propose is immediately thrown out. If I offer suggestions or criticisms along the way, they are ignored or dismissed. I am made to read cookbooks, a medium difficult for me to process and rarely edifying outside of the historical notes and personal anecdotes of the authors. This results in me sitting, eyes glazed over, hunger gnawing at my belly, for an hour or more while Claire pulls volume after volume off the shelf, makes notes in her notebook, chews on a pen while staring into space, and taking frequent cigarette breaks. And remember, this comes at the beginning of the evening's ordeal.

"Why not tell her how you feel?" one might ask. Oh, I have. Her passion to involve me in her favorite activities is admirable, and I do love her for wanting to share what gives her so much joy. I just... would rather get something done, you know?

Especially when I'm hungry.

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