Some days I just can not wrap my mind around what to cook for dinner. I hit a wall, fall into a rut, draw a blank. I open my cabinets and find nothing but cobwebs. My freezer is a frigid waste land. The refrigerator has no sympathy for my plight. Dinner is doomed.
And then, just when I think that all hope is lost and my poor children are going wither away,
This guy comes to our rescue.
My Music Man is multi-talented. He is what I refer to as a Renaissance Man. He composes amazing musical scores and makes a mean pancake. He can fry an egg and flip a flapjack in record time. Plus, he is really hot. And best of all, he likes breakfast for dinner. We must be soul mates.
What? Wait a minute! What's that you are saying, Music Man? You cooked, so I should clean up? Really? But, but, I am the mother of your children. I am the love of your life. I'll get dish pan hands, I've heard it's a horrible condition. Can't we talk this through?
Singing the Dish Water Blues,
Melissa
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