Plus I usually have to make dinner... and before you accuse me of domesticity, I'll confess that it's really my only chore. My husband doesn't like to cook. It's not that he can't, it's that he'd rather have a salad and bread than spend 2 hours fiddling with no-cook lasagne noodles only to have the result be crunchy and unpleasant (which is what happens when I decide to make lasagne, because I am always foolishly seduced by the no-cook noodles).
Last night I made honey-mustard chicken, though, and it turned out much better than I'd expected. I really do love food. I think I spend most of my day thinking up what I might eat next. One of my favourite things about the Portuguese language is that you can use the word 'delicious' to describe a good-looking guy or gal. So given my obsession with food, I was stoked to see this article in the Guardian today. I have been to Detroit on more than one occasion. Much of my husband's family is from that area, and yet I have never been to the food market mentioned, or eaten one of those delicious-looking hot dogs. Why haven't I? I would have been much more excited to visit the city if I'd known how delicious it was. Not that I wasn't excited to visit my husband's birthplace, of course, but this just puts it on a whole new level.
Next time, I'm going to