Married With a Chef

 

At least once a year I feel as if I was married with my chef Tieta. That only happens when she is leaving on holidays. Before that we argue for this and that, usually around the extent of her holidays. Her days account never matches mine.

 

I have an agreement with her: besides the usual 30 days, I give her quiet days during the whole year. Being quiet means the boys are not home. In exchange of this, I cut in her annual holidays the absences for most of the reasons, except for those the recently published law contemplates. It has to be like this because Tieta really has the tendency to be absent in the most unsuitable moments.

 

Because she seems to have a very short memory in what concerns her assiduity, last Saturday I organized a registration system where she signs each time she fails to show up. I explained that we should stop disagreeing in the future. She seemed to be glad with my initiative.

 

We argue like a good old couple, but the day we part both of us produce unmistakable declarations of mutual love, like: “I could pick another chef (or house), but I got so used that I don’t want to change…” “It’s so good as it is now.” These and other “love statements” are very quiet. It’s our goodbye ritual. It reminds me of a couple I saw saying goodbye at a train station. The separation seemed so hard that I suspected they were glued! She looked so lost afterwards… That’s more or less how Tieta and I looked on the afternoon of last Saturday 4, the same day pup Keket completed five months – four of them with us.

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