Complaining about something*

Too Particular*

So I’ve decided today that I am too particular. I’ve been rather ill the past few days with a head cold thing, and I really didn’t feel like cooking tonight so the Hubster offered to make dinner. So he made me some spaghetti– or rather, he tried to… I couldn’t help going into the kitchen to make sure everything was done (right) and stirred the sauce and noodles, drained the noodles, and served the meal. Basically, I took over. I don’t know how, but I’ve become that person. I’m so particular about how I like things that I couldn’t just sit back and let him cook. And it was spaghetti for crying out loud… there’s nothing even to it! He didn’t really say anything until after dinner, but I could tell that he was a little miffed that I spoiled his efforts to do something nice for me. I am a horrible human being. haha

I think part of it has to do with the fact the Hubster gets very… focussed when he’s working on things. When I’m in the kitchen the food gets 100% of my attention to make sure it’s done according to recipe, etc. And I guess I worry that because he focuses his attention elsewhere while cooking, that it will be overdone or not done properly, and because I am so particular, that equals not good. But what I don’t take into consideration is that my husband is a much better multi-tasker than I am. I have to give 100% of my attention to something because if I don’t, then it won’t turn out properly. I’m like that with almost every aspect of my life. Where he, on the other hand, is just so good at juggling 50 things at once and having them all come out and finish wonderfully. It’s a talent I really admire about him.

Another part of it is that I love to eat and I love to eat good food. It’s a family trait. We are a family of good eaters. haha It’s a wonder that we aren’t all 500 pounds! I get hungry like clockwork– I have to eat regularly at regular times or I am not a happy girl. What boggles me, is that the Hubs could go hours and hours without eating and not even notice it. He’ll eat whatever, whenever, and I just can’t do it. Dang me and my particularities.

Please notice my use of the word ‘particular’ and not ‘picky’. I don’t think I’ve reached the picky stage yet, believe it or not. I’m still game to eat just about anything, at least once, and I would never not eat something that was placed before me if I was eating in someone else’s home. So I wouldn’t classify myself as picky yet… although tonight I’ve realized that I’m coming dangerously close. Maybe I just need to let him in the kitchen more often though…

Shop Girl*

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