6:43 am:
Roll over. Feet out of the bed, feel around for slippers on the floor. Glasses on face. Walk over to bedroom door, pull open. One foot in front of the other, walk to living room. Begin picking up blankets, pillows, and various accroutements that are thrown half hazardly around the house.
7:24 am:
Laundry room now. Picking up crap off the floor. And by crap I mean clothes that may have once (in the recent past) been clean, but somehow ended up on the floor rather than a hanger or the laundry basket for folding.
Put clothes in the wash as I pick them up one by one. Then detergent on top. Those little round fresh scent pebbles on top of that. Close the lid. Turn the dial to LARGE load. Press start.
Warwick (husband) walks in.
“WOW. You washing a large load? You sure the washer has enough clothes in there for a LARGE load?”
“Yes. I’m sure.” Mildly ignoring him.
“Okay then, if you’re sure. . . .” He trails off walking down the hallway looking back as he does. I keep my head down and continue picking up the trash can that has fallen on its side.
The washing machine is making a weird cranking noise. I hit cancel, drain, and decide to start washing the load over again.
5 minutes later. I’m still in the laundry room. Sorting through the sport backpacks and tote bags and reorganizing the backpack rack.
He saunters back in. “Oh hey. Whats going on with the washer, why are you draining the water?”
“Uh. I dunno. It was doing something weird so I just decided to let the water out and begin again.” Brushing him off.
“Well, did you put more detergent in then?”
“No,” I say.
“Well, what’s it going to use to wash it, if all the soap went out when you drained it?”
Here we go. Deep breath.
“There is soap enough to wash the clothes because I put the detergent ON TOP of the clothes.” And now I wait.
“Oh. Hmmm. Well. Next time, you should put the detergent in first. That’s what the directions say.”
Thank God Laundry Man is here to save the day.
“Well, Mister. There is more than one way to skin a cat, and I don’t do it the same way as you. Can you please just stay out of my business? Thank you.”
“I’m just saying that the lid on the washer says for OPTIMAL WASHING put the detergent on the bottom. I’m just trying to help you out.”
I roll my eyes until they literally fall onto the floor. He picks them up, hands them to me, and sashays out of the laundry room.
8:09 am:
I finish tidying up the laundry room. I gather the assortment of tote bags whose previous home was the laundry room, and walk into my bedroom closet. I’m hanging them on hangers, at the far end of my closet and I hear some murmurs that seem to drift in my direction. . .
“What? Are you talking to me?” I say confused. It’s Warwick muttering something to me, and rummaging around the bathroom drawer.
“Oh, yeah. When you have a minute, can you go grab the check book and write me a check for $100? I need to give it to Craig for basketball. I’m trying to hurry and cut my hair.”
He can’t see it but my face is blank. But only for a second, then it turns bright red. I know this, not because I was looking in a mirror, but because I could feel the heat rising from my heart, through my throat, before it arrived at my head and made it explode.
In a tone, that seems motherly, but has an undertone of complete disdain, “You know, I really hate it when you ask me to do something that YOU could do yourself. It’s like you value your time more than mine. So, NO I. CAN. NOT. WRITE. THAT. CHECK. FOR. YOU. DO IT YOURSELF!!! I have plenty of other things that I need to do, which is why I WOKE UP SO EARLY THIS MORNING ON THIS DAY I COULD HAVE SLEPT IN.”
“Well. . . .it’s just that I’m on a time schedule. I have to take Bella to basketball.”
“Well so what? I have things I need to do for your other children! I’m on a schedule too! Which is why I woke up so early!”
“Well.. .you can do your other things later. I have to leave.”
My eyes fell out of my head again. Only this time he didn’t pick them up.
“CASE IN POINT! NO. I. CAN’T. Do it yourself.”
I stomp out of the closet, and then through the bathroom. Then, my mind races trying to figure out something to do because I was about to take a break, but now I just said I was too busy to write the check so I decide to vacuum the dining room instead.
I take a deep breath, and remind myself that stabbing people is frowned upon.
8:29 am
I’m in the front hallway, walking from the dining room to the kitchen. He’s walking from the living room to the front hallway. He walks next to me and whispers something.
“Huh?” I’m pissed. I give him my street smart face. You tryin’ to start somethin with me?
“I SAID. . .This hostility has got to stop.” But his face is tender, and gentle. And oh so super charming. How does he do that? Like he’s 18, and he just met the most beautiful girl in the world.
“You’re kidding me right now.” I suck in my cheeks and raise my eyebrows to indicate disapproval. My lips are pressed together. I don’t have time for his shit.
“Seeeeeeee. . . .”he grins. The lopsided one. :”So hostile. We are on the same team. Remember that?”
“HOSTILE? I am SO not hostile. I was just informing YOU, that 1.) I’m not your secretary, and 2.) I hate it when you treat me that way.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“Just don’t be hostile. We are on the same team. I love you.” He snickers.
“Whatever. Write the check yourself.” I cough a little, “I love you, too” comes out of my mouth as quickly as I walk away.
——————————————————————————————————————–
He is such a know it all.
And a closeted bossy pants.
And he’s so darn cute with his sly grin, and pearly teeth, that HE SAYS ONE THING and before you know it you’ve completely changed the way you wash your clothes and your writing checks left and right that he could totally have written himself!
You gotta be strong with this guy. I gotta be strong with this guy.
But I’m wise to the game now. I don’t even know if he knows what he’s doing. Maybe he thinks I live to do his bidding. And then when I tell him I don’t, he just can’t bring himself to believe me?
That’s a stretch.
I don’t know. And I don’t care. He can figure it out himself.
Because isn’t it enough that I figured this salad dressing out? I can’t be given the extra arduous task of figuring out my husband too.
Though, both are hot like chili peppers.
And oh so tart like apple cider vinegar.
I digress. I’ll finish that story another day. But for now! This salad dressing.
IT’S AH-MAY-ZING.
I tried to recreate it after Pei Wei stopped selling their Asian Chili Lime Salad. It was my favorite salad of all time. So now I’m making it for myself at home. And you know. . .I think it might be even better.
I’ll work on Warwick a little more, until I get him just right too.
I think there is hope for him yet.
Asian Chili Lime Salad Dressing
INGREDIENTS:
1 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• 1/2 cup water
• Juice from 4 limes
• 1/4 tsp ground dried ginger powder
• 1 ½ teaspoons Sriracha sauce
• 6 teaspoons sugar (or your sweetener of choice)
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1 teaspoon chili pepper flakes (or more to taste)
Directions:
- In a large jar add all of the above, and whisk together (or shake) until well combined. Pour over your favorite salad.
The below salad is my current favorite. It contains, iceberg lettuce, cilantro, cabbage, carrots, tomatoes, cucumber, fried onions, dry ramen bits, and lightly fried chicken breast pieces w/ Asian Chili Lime Dressing
Want more?
Come visit me on Instagram @nickiwooguru , and on YouTube @thenickiwoo .
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