Suffice it to say, all of the signs were there, but I couldn't help myself. I had that broom in one hand, lightning rod in the other, and lasers shooting from my eyes. God help you if you breathed in my vicinity.
And, then, after I carried on a pointless argument with this assshat on Facebook for a few hours wasting precious editing time--because, I don't know, I was in the full grips of raging hormones--Charlie came home.
After saying "hello," the first words out of his mouth were: "Have you thought about dinner?"
"Well, we need to eat."
"Yes, so, what do you want for dinner?" (Read: what are you making for dinner?)
"I haven't thought about dinner, but you can make it or go get something."
Charlie: "Aren't you hungry?"
"No, but you can eat without me."
"I want all of us to eat together."
Really? You cannot see the sparks flying off of me in every direction? Do I look like I fucking care about dinner? I've stuffed myself with shit. I'm full. You are a big boy, old enough to either make your own or go out and kill it. I don't care. Just leave me &#$!@* alone!
Oh, and I realize that I am crossing the street to participate in a woman's circle around a fire pit with some friends at 8 pm. It is 6:30. I need to make food quickly.
So, I'm putting together blue cheese burgers. Charlie is hovering over me. The sparks aren't flying quite as profusely, but the steam is still wafting out of my ears in small puffs. He's nattering away at me like a little chirpy bird, and I'm eying the spatula. It's a grill spatula and has a meat tenderizer-like edge on one side. I start thinking about what I can do with it, how I could silence him just for a few minutes. (grin)
He follows me and asks, "Would you like me to start the grill?"
Far be it from me to stop him from being helpful. I quickly escape inside for a moment of peace… which lasts all of two seconds. He follows me in and continues his incessant chattering. I'm not paying much attention to it until he asks:
"Are we having salad?"
The embers flare to life. I don't even look at him and say, "Are you making it?"
That's right, I'm making dinner. Tonight, suggestions are best left unsaid, especially when I am wielding a large knife as I slice a tomato.