If it ain’t guilt, it’s paranoia


I always cook in heels and pearls.

The world’s best masturbator and his wife are coming to dinner tomorrow. I admit that two times ago when they came the pork chops were dry, but last time the meatballs rocked (if I do say so myself), although I guess maybe the eggplant was soggy.

Even so, I wasn’t prepared to hear my wife say this today:

“You’ve been cooking so much lately. Let’s order takeout when they come over.”

That’s code, right? For Your cooking kinda sucks? Or Don’t embarrass me anymore?

What is it about being a homemaker that lends itself to critical self-examination?

I fear the worst.