
This week, while Eldest Weed was making a batch of holy cookies, to which he has become addicted, the motor on the new one died (He cookied it to death, I think). I remained calm, as cookie fest is months away and you can mix ingredients or smush meatloaf by hand if you must, and it's not absolutely necessary to have meringue. I went out to keep some appointments and never gave it another thought. Mr. W., however, who happened to be working from home the next day, sprang into action. Unbidden by and unbeknownst to me, he called Kitchen Aid, tracked down a service place, trekked across the city, and had not just one but both models repaired. Husband of the week is so easy in conception, but somewhat time-consuming in execution. Here is part of his reward.
Now there are cynics who will suggest this little moment of chivalry was somewhat self-serving in nature. But nobody better talk about my man like that in front of me.