No communication, obviously, because I'm still not certain what he's accusing me of. I wanted to say something like "I've been to a opium den of spices." or "I was having an illicit affair massaging a Kale salad." But it is best not to antagonize one in a tenuous mood.
"We were not cooking dinner," I say to the DH, "dinner isn't cooked, yet; the chicken is only marinated.” I was determined he wasn't going to dampen my high spirits. “Be a dear and chop this onion please.” About this time he notices the case of Negro Modelo on the floor next to the fridge; he theatrically rips open the box and finds places in the refrigerator for each and every bottle; and takes the box outside to the recycled receptacle. Only then does he finally chop the onion.
Somewhere, sometime, probably in high school, the entire male population learns you can never carry out any request instantly; first one must lodge a symbolic protest, somewhat passive aggressive, if you ask me. I must've been absent that day, because I still do not understand it.
fit for a king or so I thought.