I met a few friends for coffee the other day. One said she and her husband rarely go out for dinner because her husband loves to cook. She made it sound like a bad thing. Others at the table looked wistful at the thought of their husband cooking.
I do most of the cooking at my house, but there’s a reason for that. I like it.
Sure, there are days I don’t want to, but that’s when we order pizza, or have leftovers or pick up Chinese. My husband can cook, it’s just easier on our pots and pans when he doesn’t. (OK, he’s not as bad as that, but there was the skillet he had to replace, so it’s not an exaggeration, either.)
Because I’m the cook, I’m usually the dishes person, too. It’s not a big deal. I’m a ‘clean as you go’ kind of cook, which means fewer things to clean after a meal. Also, my kids are old enough now where they load their dishes in the dishwasher. My husband pitches in and helps, too, or does the laundry in return.
As someone who HATES doing laundry, I consider it a fair trade.
In the interest of full disclosure, my husband tends to do all the clean up when we have parties or host a big holiday meal. It balances out.
It needs to be said, though, that I will NEVER live in another house without a dishwasher. Seriously, greatest invention ever!