Let's Make a Deal

As a brief aside, before I get into the meat of this post, I have to note that I think I might be a bit of a loser. I post the shit out of this blog, especially during the week. At least compared to some people. Does that mean I have no life, or, I have a lot of a life and it spills out into this blog?
Good question.
Let me know what you come up with.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled program:

Rich does not cook. It's not just because he is a guy, his whole family aren't much for cooking. I on the other hand, love to cook, love to eat, love love love it. It's my frickin' albatross, hanging around my neck. Anyway, even though I do love to cook, sometimes after a 1.5 hour commute home, I just don't feel like doing it. And Rich doesn't, really, can't. Its not in his genes (see above). To be fair, our household duties are pretty evenly split. Rich helps out around the house more than probably 98% of the husbands out there. I've tried a few ways to get him to cook, but I end up taking over half the time because a) I am a control-freak, and b) I want to eat before I pass out before the hypoglycemia troll kicks me in the ass.
He made me a deal this morning though. If I promise to be out the door at 6:30 am for the rest of the week (long commute, see above) he will cook all next week.
I have trouble believing that, and frankly, there's something else I want from him even more.
Something else that will actually probably hurt him a lot more, but its really for his own good.
I am about to propose that, should I be out the door by 6:30 am for the next 3 days, he has to get... wait for it... a pedicure.
Thing is, summer is here, or right around the corner. And he wears mandals. And even though, for men's feet, his are pretty decent, I think they can look a lot better.

I have to see if he'll go for it.

I think it will be a hard sell.