“Can you get me a plate?” called hubby from the living room.
“Um… there are no plates,” I answered from the kitchen.
He didn’t skip a beat. “Or something plate-like then?”
With all due pomp and circumstance, I presented my man with a Tupperware lid.
In the years since the renegotiation of THE (infamous) DEAL – a politically charged, highly controversial, bit of newlywed legislation – we’ve held a long running Mexican Standoff over the dishes. And, much like the World War II era housewives who fashioned ball gowns out of mattress ticking, we weather each long siege (before the inevitable dish soap blitz) with resourcefulness and creativity. Necessity may be the mother of invention, but in our Calgary apartment, invention’s maternal grandparents go by the names ‘stubbornness’ and ‘procrastination’.