One evening, we were sitting down to dinner. A rare occasion since he works 12 hour days and misses family dinner time. I had tried a new variation of meatloaf which he was looking at as though it was forensic evidence at a crime scene. "What is this?" he asks. I start to feel defensive, "It's meatloaf dummy." I say. "Oh." I watch him out of the corner of my eye, picking it apart. "What are you doing?" I ask "It's got celery and onions in it" he says laughing.
At this point I am no longer laughing. I am crushed. He doesnt like my cooking. I start to cry. He starts to laugh. This makes me cry more.
It was at this point I realized that we are different. He is so easy going and laughs everything off, me I am so overly sensitive that the thought of preparing a hated meatloaf sent me into tears.
Maybe I should learn to relax....
Then again maybe not, he did feel so bad that night that he ate 2 helpings of the meatloaf (after picking out the onions and celery...)