My Wife is a Stone Cold Liar - I Raise The Pity Flag

Yesterday, my wife who deals with stress (and here we define "stress" as any entity or experience that doesn't directly and immedietly lead to her physcial comfort and pleasure) by summoning the hatred of evil entities from cultures through out time and focusing this hatred like the light from a thousand suns through the lenses of her demonic eyes onto my crotch, "requested" that I take over all the duties of the house and allow her the "privilege" of holing up in the bedroom to study.

I should point out here that I already do the cleaning, the cooking, I put the babies down at night and for their nap and bathe them and change them, as well as the physical labor involved in the house, plus I am the only person with a job and have been for years now, and if there is anything wrong with the car, no matter where I am in proximity to the car, like, say, she was driving it somewhere else and a tire blows out and I was at home with the kids, it is my duty, despite not being anywhere near the car to fix it, while she gets a ride to the house and I walk to the car and spend the remainder of my evening lying under a one ton minivan praying it doesn't, again, fall off the jack,

So me "taking over the household" for the day wasn't all that much different than what I already do. But, seeing as how she wanted to make this a formal thing, I figured I could leverage this into creating some time of my own. Specifically, I asked that I be allowed the few hours this Saturday, from the time I woke up until the time I have to go to work for twelve hours, my own study time where I can research the exciting work done by both my contemporaries and that historical on Brassica rapa, the world's most awesome mustard plant. She said sure.

So you know what I did from 7:00AM until 9:00AM? I cooked crepes for six people. Crepes, which I have never cooked before, are a major pain in the ass. You cook each one of those paper-thin tasteless pancakes one at a time, waiting between crepes for the pan to reheat. Homeade ravioli takes less time.

And now that that is done my babies are FREAKING OUT. That's how my house works.

Yup. Brassica rapa. The old B. rapa .

I hate my life.