An Unfit Wife

I try to be a good wife. Really, I try my darndest.

I try to have a warm meal cooked every night when Jeff gets home. It's not always tasty and sometimes my timing is off, leaving it cold, but I try. I just wasn't blessed with those culinary skills. Not surprising if you know my mother whose dream dinner is a sandwich from Panera, my father who can't even figure out how to use the microwave, and my aunt who doesn't know how to fry an egg. Apparently it's genetic and I got it from both sides!
I have gotten into the routine of doing laundry at least three nights a week. I keep a special eye on Jeff's so that I don't discolor or shrink anything, even if this means going up and down the stairs 900 times per load to check on things.

I try to keep the house clean. I do the dishes, most of the time, to the best of my ability (sometimes I get lazy), and I vacuum and sweep just a little less than I should. With a white tile kitchen floor and muddy puppy paws running around, I can't get away with much. But, I try to keep it clean.

So, all of these things, plus unconditional love should make me a good wife. But, I'm not. Speaking with my husband today, I ran my hand across his head and through his hair. Jeff keeps his hair very short at this point, to counteract the missing pieces. To me, for some reason, it seemed a little longer than normal, so I expressed his need for a haircut. Jeff was certainly shocked as he explained he had just gotten it cut yesterday. I tried to cover up and say I was joking, but I lie like a sack of potatoes. Plus, it usually takes me a while to notice a haircut on Jeff.

It is so unfair of me to let his haircuts go unnoticed. Here is a man who notices when I get my eyebrows waxed or have different earrings in. A bad wife I am, for not being more observant like my husband.