Huh?

Huh?

Sometimes life is just strange. Probably not for all the rest of you, but for me (and us) -- oh yeah!

We grilled some shark steaks for dinner a couple of nights ago. Actually, He grilled. Because He grills. It is His thing. Sometimes, depending on how tired He is, one of us is allowed to clean out the grill and set up the fire -- maybe even start the fire, but the actual cooking of whatever critter is His.

So, He grilled the shark and I made up some zucchini fritters and sauce to go with it. A nice enough dinner with a decent white wine. All good.

Except a few, leftover pieces of the shark weren't quite as done as He thought they should have been. Not a problem actually. We had plenty of perfectly done fish for the meal. The rest will become another meal; probably tonight. But, He just couldn't let it go -- those pieces of fish just HAD to go back on the grill. The only thing is, He wasn't into grilling anymore, so it was me who ended up dragging them back out to the patio to put them back on the fire.

Now, for reasons that are not entirely clear to me, I was having a moment. I don't know why. Just was. Pissy about the whole business, and pretty much everything in the whole universe. That sort of thing comes over me now and then -- a sense that it all just isn't fair or right or nice; the voice that whispers that I work all day too, and cook the meal and clean up the meal, and am just as gosh darned tired as everybody else -- so why me? Of course, the answer is that it is me because He says it is -- and I know that perfectly well. I just wish someone would tell the annoying voice!

Anyway, I gathered up the fish parts and hauled myself out and stuck them back on the grill and timed for the appropriate span of minutes and then pulled them back off the fire and back into the house. And then, I did the dishes and took out the trash and tidied up for the next morning. It wasn't that big a deal and it didn't take me all that long, but I am sure that I had that "face" thing going because He looked at me and asked me, "What's wrong, honey?"

And I really didn't have an answer for that exactly. I told Him that I was just having "a moment," and that I'd be fine -- just working it out. Of course, He knew exactly where my head was, and pursued it: "Are you upset about having to cook the fish?" Man, I hate it when He does that!

"Yes. I'm just feeling crabby about things. I'll get over it. Don't worry." All of that seems perfectly reasonable to me.

That's when He asked the question that just stopped me in my tracks: "If you didn't want to do it, why did you do it?"

?????????????????????????? Huh? I was just dumbstruck. Finally, looking at Him like He'd landed from another planet, I said (as calmly as I could manage), "Did you really just ask me that?"

Really. That seems like a question that just doesn't even have a reason to get asked. Why did I do it? Because I do what He asks me to do. Always. Even when I feel some sort of reaction or response or resistance -- I do it because that is who I am.

swan