Here is a dishwasher update.
I still have dishes in the sink and dirty dishes in the dishwasher. I'm still handwashing TG's dishes myself on a daily basis. There is a funky smell coming from the kitchen but I'm certain it is from the trash and not from the sink.
Mentally, I've gone to my happy place and now prep on my cutting board. Everything around me has become white noise. DH has also come to 'assist' and has now decided to help pack and/or unpack a dishwasher as I prep and cook in our tiny galley kitchen.
This was particularly helpful as I cooked our traditional anniversary dinner, steak, yellow rice & peas.
The difference this time was DH is now calorie counting and wearing a heart monitor. Apparently, the heart monitor doesn't calculate his caloric burn if he's in resting. He didn't find this out until after a full 24 hour day wearing it.
God bless the folks who do this all the time. It has become a ridiculous session of calculators and measuring cups, scales and what not.
Why is my husband counting calories? Because he wants to be healthy. I applaud his effort, especially as he is smack in the middle of the normal BMI range, his BMR is great and he exercises 6 days a week on average. I'm snarking because this has impeded my cooking which has been stunted as is as I have a toddler toddling around.
The problem I have is simple, if I say anything about his borderline obsessive compulsion, I'm impeding his way to good health. Nevermind, he eats more aspartame than anyone I've known. Honey, Dannon Light and Fit is really not that fit and just because the light white bread has less calories doesn't mean it's better than the whole wheat bread.
Anywho, the gauntlet was dropped the other night when I forgot to weigh the chicken I prepped before seasoning it. So I figured, if I just subtract the amount of chicken I didn't cook from the weight noted on the package, that should give him a rough estimate of how much the chicken weighed pre-seasoning. Apparently rough estimate is not enough as I calculated the uncooked chicken in ounces and the packaging had the weight in pounds.
To add to my dismay, the post cooked measuring of the pasta I made for lunch, went awry when the freaking cheap scale tipped over sending my crab pasta to the floor to the waiting mouth of my elderly deaf dog.
So now, when I go into the kitchen, I go to my happy place and focus on my little cutting board.
Check out Tiffany's blog for more 'My Husband is Annoying'.