Ha! I’m sure the kitchen is filthy .Men; they are lousy when it comes to dishes.
“Booom Daaam” .That my readers, was my heart .The food is cooked and neatly placed in one corner. The kitchen sink is clean, the vessels washed and dried. The kitchen emanates a pleasant smell of spices. Is this my own home? Did I get into the wrong house?
I hear a cacophony in the bathroom. I recognize the unmistakable source of the cacophony. So this is my home indeed. I am actually a little happy. I snort for the effect. I know he would be showering with out using soap. Don’t ask me the logic. Apparently when women use the words shower and bath interchangeably, men don’t. Shower doesn’t necessarily include the usage of soap or rigorous scrubbing. But then, now that you are in the bathroom stripped and under the shower why not use some soap? Beats me.
I patiently wait for the red carpet arrival of the city-cave-man. I had to talk to him to about the importance of soap in a marital life. Much to my dismay he comes out in a fresh shirt and shorts, smiling, smelling of “Chandrika” soap. I cross my brows in disappointment. How could he deny me the simple pleasure of nagging him?
“Long day eh? I’ve kept the geyser on. Go take a bath. I’ll keep dinner ready by the time you come out. Want some wine?”
I want to scream. I refrain. I say grumpily,” No, I don’t drink on workdays and especially on Wednesdays.” I wait for him to remind me of the bottle I finished yesterday. “
“Okay.” I can only sigh at the non-provocative remark.
I take a long bath and have my dinner in silence. I wait for him to say something so that I can snap. No, he doesn’t fall for it. The man has finally learned when to keep his mouth shut.
After dinner he offers to clean up. Another lost chance at nagging. I am tucked in to bed and he sleeps at his side of the bed .I am frustrated .I was waiting to take it out on him and here he was not giving me a chance.