One tries to do nice things for one's spouse. One's spouse, exhausted from playing with fire most of the day and doing NO HOUSEHOLD CHORES, is sleeping alot.

"sorry, I'm not a ball of fire today."  Did he mean that pun?

I fixed us a nice dinner, still feeling as if honoring our anniversary, though it be late, were important.   I made steak, baked potatoes, broccoli and homemade oatmeal rolls.

"You're not making those rolls again are you?  We just had them last week."

"Those rolls" are supposed to be his favorites.  He's whining because I'm making him something nice for dinner.  Some of his favorites.   When the rolls came out of the oven, I told him he really didn't have to eat them.  He grinned and dug right in.  I told him he didn't have to eat the leftover rolls.   I told him I'd feed them to the birds in the morning.  I'm pretty sure I wasn't sounding too annoyed when stating these things.

Evidently, I was more annoyed than I thought.  When he replied,"Over my dead body!"  Miss Bitchy Bitch cooly came out, archly replying,"That can be arranged."

I guess I'm not as okay with him going to fire school today as I thought I was.  Actually, it wasn't fire school.  It was burning a house down, room by room or some such nonsense so pictures could be taken and used for the annual fire school over the next two weekends.  The next two weekends? Damn! I forgot it was that time of year already!

Now, I have a choice. I can be pouty over the next two weekends because he's going to be gone pursuing his passion.   Or I can relish the fact that I have the house to myself and make the best of it.

I vote to work with the latter attitude.  The poor Chief works so hard and yet, is so underappreciated. Some days anyway.

Blessings