I was chopping onions and olives for dinner last night and noticed that the knife just wasn't that sharp.
The knife needs sharpening.
This is not my job.
I've pointed out before that sharpening the knife involves handing all metal objects to The Husband, firmly plugging my ears with my fingers and shouting LA LA LA at the top of my lungs in order to drown out the screeching sound of metal gliding against metal.
Geez! I can hardly type that!! [*dry heave*]
Last night was no different.
Well, actually it was, otherwise I wouldn't be writing about it, would I?
I hand the knife and the blade sharpener over to the husband. He grins his evil grin and takes one in each hand. He glances over at me, raises an eyebrow as if to ask, Ready?
I plug my ears, squeeze my eyes shut and prepare to start with the La La La-ing.
When suddenly, I hear, at the top of his lungs, The Husband ...
HER NAME IS RIO
AND SHE DANCES ON THE SAND!
JUST LIKE THAT RIVER
TWISTING THROUGH A DUSTY LAND
AND WHEN SHE SHINES
SHE REALLY SHOWS YOU ALL SHE CAN
RIO DANCE ACROSS THE RIO GRANDE!
I am laughing my head off.
He's giggling like a maniac.
And the knife was sharpened without me even noticing.
God bless his little psychotic heart!