TDay musings

How come I am can make a full Thanksgiving dinner, having served breakfast, with desserts etc, while dh mindfucks a brisket to death?

The past hour, he's been trying to figure how to perfectly time on the smoker, trapeze artist-like, Linnea's bacon wrapped turkey leg with the rest of dinner. Dude, it's a fucking turkey leg. We can shove it in the oven.

I love him dearly, but really, I could use help with the other zillion things I need to do.

ETA The Next Morning. Struck the whole post because dh completely redeemed himself. After dinner, I was done, my knee in pain, and I sat down and dh did pretty much the whole cleanup solo. It wasn't terrible, since we'd been doing dishes etc as we went along, but it had to be done and he did. So mea culpa on griping about him, LOL.