What it looks like when a real human being decides to whip up a soup with the bare staples that are jumping from the cabinets saying, “Pick me! I’ve been in here for 3 months!”
This is what it looks like when said real human being continually taste tests the soup. This is what happens when that same real human being discovers that she has been eating ANTS, not pepper. Yep. There were ants floating in my soup.
I head over to the cabinets where the flour resides (I narrowed this down as my target) and discovered that the unlucky floaters had family members. I’m talking Madea’s Family Reunion family members.
I will cut right to the chase and say: This week has been fun. Canned goods and boxes of macaroni everywhere; the fume of ant killer flooding the homestead instead of candles. Justin’s judging stares when he catches me trying to line up the cream of mushroom soups on the dining room table to feel a sense of order.
These are the scenes of marriage. They don’t tell you about them because they think you’ll skip town. The truth is—in some form or fashion—there are always going to be ants in your soup. There’s gonna be a kink in your plans. You’re going to regularly yell, “DANG IT!” while your husband calls from the room, “Left it on preheat again, huh?” It’s like he knows.
It’s the grin you have on your face when the lawn mower is broken and your husband is whacking at your grass with a stupid weed eater.
It’s making “I might get laid off” jokes like it’s a funny situation. It’s standing on a scale while your husband eats onion rings and simultaneously loses weight. It’s comparing the difference in severity of your dog-chewed underwear collections.
And this is a weird thing to say--especially with ya’ll knowing I’m a few dynamite sticks short of an explosion most of the time-- but I feel oddly at peace. It’s like I’m eating those ants and God is saying, “Ashton, my child, it’s just a little extra protein.” (Disclaimer: I’m not so at peace that I will keep eating ants. Just thought I’d put that out there).
So, here’s my take away, people:
· Instead of harping about your splotchy yard, thank the sweet man who looks a fool to make sure it doesn’t grow over your house post-rain.
· Instead of beating yourself up because Martha Stewart would NEVER serve ants, pat yourself on the back for attempting to cook and then head to Ruby Tuesday’s.
· Instead of burning the pizza, accidentally leave the cardboard on the bottom so that it doesn’t get cooked enough. It shakes up the surprise factor.
· Instead of worrying about your career path, bring back some of the dreams you forgot you even had.
· Instead of being OCD about Cream of Mushroom soup, tell yourself to chill out and push one over.
And most of all, don’t make a mountain out of an anthill.
