Quiet Evening at Home

"Is there sour cream?"
"I think so. You'll have to go check."
"That means I'll have to get up."
"Walking is like that."
"I wanted to be certain of dip before I got up!"
"Nothing in life is certain."
"There is no sour cream in the fridge."
"Alas and alack."

"What do we want to do for dinner?"
"I think there's some chicken in the fridge. Uh, freezer."
"Yeah."
"Could you start it defrosting? I'll get sour cream on the way home."
"Okay. And my cheese?"
"I'll look."

"There's sour cream now. They didn't have the cheese."
"Well, that's dairy."

At which point we had some conversations about how we were doing in Tribal Wars and a bit of me eavesdropping on his World of Warcraft setup. And I commented about one of the pleasanter and more entertaining aspects of being a space alien; it's nice to have some every so often.

"Could you start some rice to go with this?"
"Sure."

"I've put some flavoring stuff in the rice."
"..."
"Did you hear me comment on the rice?"
"Yeah. Checking on the chicken."

"This is going to be kind of dry. We should maybe do something with it?"
"I can make a sauce?"
"That'd work."
"Any ideas?"
"There's just pepper on the chicken, so something that goes with whatever you did with the rice."
"I'll just do a basic cheese sauce, then."
"That sounds good."

"Sauce is done. Rice is still going. You want to wait?"
"Yeah."

Sounds of animated violence are drifting over the back of the couch now.

Just a quiet evening at home.

I've been seeing people commenting recently about running relationships on feminist principles, and have been vaguely sort of wondering what they mean by that. Ideology is hard. I should go check the rice.