A Love Letter to My Husband, After Valentine's Day

To My Dearest Husband,

Remember Valentine's Day?  We had a perfect night, didn't we?  Your mother took the kids from us, you came home with a nice bottle of wine, and I prepared some Korean Barbecue.

Ah , Korean Barbecue.  One of our favourite meals!  You even ran to the Asian grocery for the good Kimchi (IFL Kimchi!).  You are a good man.  You also insisted we use the table-side Korean barbecue we borrowed from our friend Jen.

We should probably get our own.  Only $30.

Remember the barbecue?  The same Korean barbecue we keep neglecting to return because we're assholes and it is somehow always dirty?  The one that was finally clean from the last time we used it but was somehow still in our possession?  You said that it would be much more romantic to cook table-side so as to enjoy the novelty of having hot fat splatter in our faces.

I would have been perfectly happy to just precook the meat in our frying pan.  I could have had all of our mess cleaned up before we even began eating.  It's just that you so gallantly offered-no....promised to clean the barbecue that I confess, I fairly lost my head.  You know how offering to clean just drives me wild....so I agreed.

And aside from a few minor burns, it was a magical evening.

Week 4:  Seriously???

I guess I got a little worried when you ignored the dirty barbecue the next day.  I didn't want to call attention to it after the wonderful night we had.  Doing so might imply that your intentions were less than honourable.  A few days later I had hoped my question asking where I should store the dirty barbecue would serve as a hint for you to clean it.

It did not.

A week after Valentine's Day I briefly considered cleaning it myself, but decided not to.  It would have looked too much like I was accusing you of something.  I'm sure all those times I cleaned your filthy frying pans after waiting a week (because I needed them), you were sincere when you said "Oh honey, I was totally going to wash those!"

I know you would never on purpose leave the dirty dishes for so long that I would get fed up and do them for you.  But I also knew that if I cleaned that damned barbecue after you promised to clean it for me on the sacred day of St. Valentine, I might be tempted to exact revenge.  Which, as you well know after 13 years, I am totally capable of doing.

I don't mean to be impatient.  I know it's only been a month.  And so, rather than subject you to my somewhat immature sense of justice, I have instead decided to store the filthy, crusty barbecue in your man-cave for you to deal with at your leisure.  This is what I believe will be safest for everyone.


                                                                                        Always,                                                                                        
                                                                                           Your Loving Wife

P.S.  We really need to return this barbecue.  We are the worst kind of people.