The Truth About Tampons

Pssssssst.
I'm not really writing about tampons. The truth is that I don't want Mr. C to read this particular blog and history has taught me that any mention of feminine products is usually enough to run him off. So bear with me here.
I'm thinking that the real title of this blog should be "Man Logic: Why It's Stupid."
I know, I know. Berating one's spouse behind their back is uncouth behavior, and truly that's not my intention- although I'll admit a tiny, evil, little part of me may enjoy writing the next couple of paragraphs. It's just that we had a little incident here- nothing major- but it's been bugging the heck out of me and there are just some things that a girl needs to get off her back.

So the other afternoon, I was flipping through a cooking magazine when I see this beautiful photograph of a nice, steaming bowl of creamed chicken curry soup. The picture alone was just gorgeous- ribbons of orange carrots curling up and out of the golden broth surrounded by sauteed celery and onions, and a big slab of crusty bread placed just so on the side of the bowl. And I thought to myself "I can do that!" I grabbed a pen and furiously scribbled down the ingredient list, all the while imagining my family raving over this delicious concoction that I was about to whip up for them.

I grabbed the ingredients at the grocery store, came home, and started chopping, sauteeing, stirring, and simmering like a mad woman. This happened to be a night when I would leave to go tutor, so while normally in the napping hours of 2 and 3 o' clock you'll find me celebrating the peace and quiet by reading on the couch or (more likely) blitzing my little heart out on Facebook's Bejeweled, on this afternoon I had to suck it up and sacrifice p & q time to get dinner ready early.
It's a huge sacrifice. HUGE. Most mom's know that naptime is precious and sacred. However, I knew in my heart of hearts that this Creamed Chicken Curry Soup was going to be so good that it would change my family's life FOREVER, so it was a sacrifice I was willing-nay, HAD to make.

Mr. C walked in the door and announces how good it smells. I'm pleased. I give him a kiss and quickly run through a few details from the day before I leave him. I explain that upon my arriving home at 6, we'll eat. He nods his understanding.
"Oh!" I say. "Would you mind doing this one thing? The chicken needs to be diced and put into the soup. I gotta go. Can you do that for me?"
He points at the grilled chicken pieces on the cutting board. "This chicken?" I nod. "In here?" he asks, pointing to the simmering pot of awesomeness that's on the stove.
"Yes. That chicken. In there." I say. "Can you do that?"
"No problem!" he declares and I leave, feeling confident and optimistic about the upcoming supper I have so lovingly prepared for my family.

Fast forward 2 hours. I arrive home. The house smells delish. I greet my family who is happy to see me and work my way over to the stove and oh. mY. GOD!!!!! WHAT HAPPENED? NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! WHAT HAPPENED TO MY MASTERPIECE? IT'S A STICKY GLOB OF GLUE STUCK TO THE BOTTOM OF THE PAN!!!
"WHAT HAPPENED?????" I scream.
"What? What's wrong?" he's peering into the pan with a confused expression on his face.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT HAPPENED? LOOK AT MY SOUP! IT'S A GLOP! Did you put the lid back on after you put the chicken in?" I accuse.
"What? No, you didn't tell me to!"
" I DIDN'T TELL YOU TO???? DID YOU THINK YOU COULD SIMMER SOMETHING ON THE STOVE FOR TWO HOURS AND NOT HAVE A LID ON IT? ALL THE YUMMY GOODNESS IS EVAPORATED! WE HAVE GLOP! GLLOOOOOPPPPPP! KIDS, I HOPE YOU LIKE GLOP, CUZ IT'S WHAT'S WE'RE HAVING FOR DINNER!"

Okay, I tend to get a little dramatic when I'm upset. But really. Mr. C angrily swore up and down that there was no way he could've known to replace the lid after adding the chicken and I angrily swore up and down that it's basic scientific knowledge that heat evaporates liquids unless it's trapped. I almost posed the question on Facebook in the form of a quiz, but decided that that could be taking the argument a little too far.

Anyway, I managed to somewhat save the soup by thinning it out with milk and whisking the hockey sticks out of it. The kids hated it (but let's be honest, they would've hated it anyway. Someday I'll have to face the fact that my children only show excitment for food that contains the word nugget or comes with a prize). Mr. C was angry at me but tried to rise above the argument by complimenting the soup anyway. I wasn't at the point where I could take the high road yet. A gracious eye roll was all I could manage. Dinner sucked.

He had his revenge on me the next day however. The cable guy knocked on our door and announced he was here to switch a 2 line plate from one room to the next. "Where's the modem?" he asked.
"Huh?" was my reply.
"Where's the old service wire?"
"Huh?" I repeated.
"The old plate in the wall? The one you want me to switch? Where would I find that?"
"Oh. Um, I don't know. Let me call my husband."
I called Mr. C at work, thus interrupting his 3rd period class.
"Babe? The Cable Guy? He's asking these questions and I don't know what to tell him..." (There's an exasperated sigh on the other end of the line)
"We went over this last night! I wrote everything out for you on that paper in the office!" He sounds upset for some reason.
"Yeah, I saw that paper. I don't get it. Can't you just talk to him?"....

So I guess the lesson here is that common logic depends on which gender's brain you're looking at it from.
You all have a nice day.