Tidbits of chicken

First, let me say that I'm the baby of the family, not the first born. And I'm exactly the same way as my friend Jacoba in the "must control the kitchen" department. I'm not totally proud of it, but for real, if raw chicken touches the blade of the kitchen shears, then they better be washed. In hot water. With soap. The antibacterial kind. Along with the sink, the counter, and anything else in the kitchen that could have raw chicken germs on it, either from direct or indirect contact.

So when Seth cooks with chicken, I either stand in the kitchen, hovering and hovering and wincing and making nonsensical outbursts that consist mostly of short bursts of air leaving my lungs and traveling noisily through my lips, or I leave the room. And try really hard not to think about what's going on. While cradling my antibacterial spray bottle that will make everything all better in the morning when he leaves for work and I start the disinfecting process.

And the thing about it is...Seth and I get mad at each other, or alienate the shit out of one another, while Cob and Rob joke around and laugh it off. Is this a duration of marriage type thing?

i am quite sure that to Rob, it's rather irritating for you to say "go make dinner" and that you "don't care", and then you back seat cook the whole time he's in the kitchen. or maybe it's not irritating anymore? does he accept it, and love you even more for your crappy kitchen maneuvers? honestly...