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Overcooked

 

I’m really homicidal sick of cooking.  After  preparing  7 326 meals (give or take..), I’m outta here steam.  Regardless of how much I sigh, hint and yell “I swear to God I’m going to stick my head in this gas oven if no one gives me a hand in here!” slam pots and pans, the males in my household don’t read the manic warning signs cues.  Sure if I ask them  to peel a carrot, they’ll ask “What’s a carrot?”do it but I want more initiative.  I’ve finally figured out it’s never going to happen they need direct instruction and some hand-holding. Here are some tips to keep you from leaving  get more help around the house:

  • Be clear. Look them in the eye (located directly behind their mobile device)and clearly tell them you’re pretty sure you’re in the midst of a nervous  breakdown what you want them to do.
  •  Ask questions to engage them.  For instance, if there is chicken thawing on the counter you could ask, “Does anyone know if salmonella poisoning is a quick death?” “Does anyone know how to make the sole female in the house insane chicken al fredo? I’d sure love someone to sedate  teach me!”
  • Use guilt.  Remind them of all the things you do for them. Then say, “You could show your appreciation by realizing my name isn’t ‘What’s For Supper?’ helping out in the kitchen.” Stay calm when they ask, “What’s a kitchen?”
  • A picture is worth a thousand words. See sample: IMG_0490
  • Avoid sarcasm.  Saying things like, “I suuure hope these new steak knives work. On my wrists.” “No really, I’m fine. I like being alone in the kitchen. Please relax everyone.” doesn’t help. In fact, it leads to them saying things like, “Okie dokey”.  That in turn leads to you saying things like, “I’m doing it!! I’m cutting into my flesh now! Don’t you dare try to stop me!” “You’re eating dog food tonight.”

 

I’ll admit it takes a few police visits days to convince your family members that you need a one-way ticket anywhere  little help with meals.  Once they figure out where the kitchen is and that the stove is more than a resting place for book bags, things get bearable easier. If you’re in a coma.  Bon appetit!

 

 

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