For all the emails I've received, yes Aaron did manage to keep the children alive.
But that's it.
I'm not remotely joking.
All the clean laundry I left in the living room was still in the living room. The table was just as cluttered (if not more so) than when I left. No vacuuming was done and don't even get me started on how crispy my plants are looking because the man forgot to water everything.
But that's okay, because my children are alive. So I was totally find with that until I found that
Now, sometime people tilt their head a bit to the right and go "huh?" when I talk about my grill but quite honestly, we have a few role reversals going on here that isn't quite the norm.
Ridiculous not-sexist-but-kinda-sexist role reversals. I blame this on my being raised by a single dad (my mom passed away when I was four) and Aaron being raised by a single mom (his father passed before he was born). So, while I can roll out the bed and be ready at the door in 10 minutes, Aaron needs at least an hour and no, I have no fucking clue what he's doing to his hair. Or, how I always drive the family around and Aaron sits in the passenger seat and has to just look pretty.
So, yeah. That's my motherfuckin' grill sitting out there on the back porch. I wanted the bigger one that was twice the size of the one we got (and the same price on close-out!) but Aaron didn't want too much of his pretty patio taken by a monstrous grill.
I was telling him of dinner I had planned (bbq'd country style pork ribs [I'm from Kansas City, sister loves her barbecue], roasted potatoes, poblano peppers on the grill and a green salad -- you know FOOD as in FOOD I DIDN'T EAT IN SAN FRANCISCO) and he interrupts me with, "uh... yeah... something's wrong with the grill.."
I slammed the phone down in the cradle and ran to mah baybee.
He dismantled it.
Oh my hell.
Apparently? He though the burnt juicy goodness on the grates was peeling paint and mold. I dare you to find me a woman who doesn't grill who's as stupid as that. DARE.
I reconfigured it the best I could (I have no fucking clue how to put that top grate back in, damn it) and grilled dinner.
Then I banned Aaron from every touching my grill again. Amen.