Silas is home from Google orientation and I could not be more happy. Two weeks is really a long time. When I dropped my husband off at the airport I figured it wouldn't be THAT hard to fend for myself for a couple weeks... by the time I picked him up I had made a unilateral decision that we would never again spend longer than a week apart.
The biggest reason I decided this had to do with a very stubborn mayonnaise jar. The day after Silas left I was presented with the chore of having to open a new mayonnaise jar. No biggy, right? Not so. I COULD NOT GET THE STUPID LID OFF! I tried with all my might. I twisted and twisted. I used two towels for grip - still nothing doing. I got out a butter knife and beat on the lid for awhile before attempting to open the jar again.
As I stood there at the counter, furiously banging away with the butter knife the thought crossed my mind "What if you can't get this jar open, Elisabeth?" I began to panic. There, on the counter sat my half made sandwich. I couldn't eat it without mayo. I knew I couldn't. I wished, for the first time since I got married, that I still lived at home so one of my brothers could open this jar for me. My whole culinary life began to flash before my eyes... all the things that I couldn't make without mayo! Sandwiches of all kinds, salad dressing, chicken braid, mayo spaghetti, AHHHHHHHH!!!!
Adrenaline surged through my veins, I took up my towels and twisted as hard as I could! I heard a pop! I felt a pop. I had finally managed to get the lid unscrewed but not without pulling a muscle in my forearm. Seriously. Not. Even. Kidding. This is why I will never live alone. Ever. Some women worry about choking to death, alone, in their apartments. I worry about not being able to open mayonnaise jars.
But, thankfully, God blessed me with Silas, who will always be willing to spare me injury by opening any and all jars for me (well, except for maybe ketchup bottles). Lucky me.
I should mention that there IS a price to pay for husbands who open mayonnaise jars. Lately, for instance, I've had to endure Silas's fit about the fact that I don't know what tiramisu is. (In my defense I know it's some sort of Italian cake thing. That explanation earned me no brownie points with Si.) And if you think his reaction to that was bad, yesterday he discovered that I don't know who Pink Floyd is...