I was practicing my violin, when I heard a yell from the kitchen. "Woman!"
It was my husband.
"I'm kind of busy," I said. "What do you need?"
"Woman, get over here," he said.
I sighed and put down my violin. I walked into the kitchen to see what the man wanted.
He was standing next to the chicken I had made. "Woman, you do not know how to cut a chicken."
"You intererupted my practicing to tell me that?"
"This is a disgrace. Completely unacceptable! You mutilated this thing!"
Yeah, so? I had pulled off the legs and wings, and sliced through the breasts. Then I plopped them on a plate and served them to my kids. What was the big deal?
"Woman, you need to be taught how to properly cut a chicken."
So now I have an assignment. I am to go to the store, purchase another chicken, prepare it, and then attend my husband's school for the culinary arts to learn how to properly cut it.
And all I wanted to do was practice my violin! Oy gewalt!