When Matt got home from work the other night, he went into the bedroom to change and came back out a few minutes later in his bare feet and said, "Hey Laur, would you mind looking at something on the bottom of my foot?"
Oh, marriage. You are full of unexpected situations.
I managed to get out of the extremity examination, but it turns out that Matt's dress shoes were a little too small, so he decided that he would stop at the store after work last night to look for a new pair. He also had to buy shotgun shells because he and his dad are hunting tomorrow and he volunteered to bring the shells (not called bullets, as this non-hunter has learned), and DSW and Dick's Sporting Goods happen to be in the same shopping center, which is basically retail jackpot.
Matt called me as he was leaving the shoe store to see if he should start dinner when he got home. I was just heading out of the gym and running into the food store because we needed apple juice and yogurt (SO MANY DETAILS). Since he would probably beat me to the house, I told him the dinner plan.
(Leftover chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans. This is fascinating.)
Before we hung up, I asked him what kind of shoes he bought.
"Hush Puppies," he said.
Well, this morning I put on my sensible new sneakers with orthotic inserts for a follow up appointment with the podiatrist, and Matt broke in his Hush Puppies. If you need us Saturday night, we'll be at the diner for the early bird special and then at the bingo hall because evidently we are 100.
I told Matt I was just about to run into the food store and asked him if he needed anything else. "Nope," he said. "I've got my Hush Puppies and a few boxes of shotgun shells, and what more could a man really need?"
Go ahead and embroider that on a pillow.
For the first six months of our marriage, Matt pretty much handled all dinners. But now, since he doesn't get home from his new job until much later, it made sense for me to take over in the dinner department and IT IS TURNING OUT TO BE A LOT OF WORK.
When I was growing up, every night as we finished eating dinner I would ask my mom, "So, what are we having for dinner tomorrow?" If there are two things I love in this world it's a good meal and a schedule, so it was a totally sensible question in my mind.
However, God bless my mom for never saying, "YOU'RE GOING TO WANT DINNER...AGAIN?" because that's what I wanted to say to Matt this afternoon when the dinner topic came up. But I maintained my wifely composure and said, "Don't worry about it Matt, I'll definitely figure something out."
Well, Matt knows me pretty darn well because tonight at 6:15 he walked through that front door holding a hot pizza in his hand which was very convenient since I HAD NOT FIGURED ANYTHING OUT.
After we ate our pizza, Matt disappeared into the bedroom and came back out in full hunting gear for what turned out to be a dress rehearsal of sorts for tomorrow morning. He was a little bit concerned about temperature control- he didn't want to wear a heavy coat and be too hot, or a light coat and be too cold.
So I stood in the closet and looked through his outerwear options while repeatedly suggesting I thought he should wear his leaf suit so he'd blend in with the elements until he finally said, "LADY, IT IS NOT CALLED A 'LEAF SUIT.' IT IS CAMOUFLAGE."
You say camouflage and shot shells and I say leaf suit and bullets.
Matt eventually finalized his wardrobe, which he carefully laid out in the dining room so that he can change out there when he wakes up at 3:30, and doesn't have to wake me up because he has apparently learned I do best on eight plus hours of uninterrupted sleep.
I am kind of high maintenance.
Also pictured is Matt's toolbox (don't know the technical name) of hunting supplies and a box of latex gloves to clean birds. He bought several hundred in a fit of unbridled optimism despite the fact that there is a two bird limit.
Really, I sure hope he shoots a pheasant (or two) tomorrow, mostly because he will be totally thrilled and it will absolutely make his entire hunting season.
And also because, well, dinner.