"Jenny! Two blog entries in one day? Have you read more of your political and economic philosophy books during lunch? 'Cause I hate to break it to you, but that could get boring if you keep going on about them..."
That is my imaginary reader, by the way. I consult my IR(or "Irving" as he will referred to heretofore) often. Irving tells me that my cooking blog entries are particularly entertaining and that my male readers, especially male relative readers, find my going on about my ovulation cycle a little awkward.
Anyway, no I haven't read any more of my books, but I was thinking about how much delectable perfection there is in the married state. Around six o'clock or so, right about when I am bored, listless and hungry, the door opens, the dogs go crazy, and there is a man in the house.
Not just a man, but a soldier with big, muscled arms, dusty boots and laugh lines at the sides of his eyes. And it turns out, amazingly enough, that this man is my husband. Therefore it is not just my personal desire to throw myself into his arms and cover his sweaty face with kisses, but it is my very responsibility.
Duty never tasted so sweet.
Now it's time to house clean. Damn that phone.
