Last week, I dragged myself through the door after work. I’ve been up since 5 a.m. So, I had barely stepped foot in the kitchen when my husband, who came home at 4 p.m. and was just chilling, dropped this bombshell on me.
Husband: “Hey, hon. I picked up some food. You OWE me 200 bucks. Just pop it in my wallet.”
Me: “Excuse me? We both eat, don’t we? Shouldn’t we split that at least?”
Husband: “Nope. YOU’RE THE WIFE. COOKING’S YOUR GIG. If you’re not gonna cook, you gotta pay for the food I get.”
I almost hit the roof. But, I bit my tongue, thinking I had to teach him a lesson. So, the next day, when my husband…
…came home from work, he found the table beautifully set — candles, wine glasses, the works.
Husband: smiling smugly “Oh, you cooked?”
Me: “Not exactly.”
Out from the kitchen came a delivery guy with enough gourmet takeout for a feast. My husband’s eyes lit up… until the delivery guy handed him the bill — $350.
Husband: “What’s this?!”
Me: “Oh, I didn’t cook today, so you get the honor of paying for the food. Fair’s fair, right?”
The delivery guy was barely holding back laughter as my husband’s face turned crimson.
Guess what? He hasn’t dared ask me for a penny for takeout since.
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