A story about my own marriage

Let me share a story about my own marriage… we try our best to compromise on things.

My husband loves hot dogs, frankfurters and all red skinned sausage shaped processed meats. He’s a grown-ass man, so he can choose to eat what he wants.
I do NOT like them and I’ll tell you why…. this is a TRUE STORY, with a few details changed to protect privacy.

Up until last week, I had banned hot dogs from our house. The AFL Grand Final was on, and I thought I’d put my personal taste aside and treat him to some Hutton’s Footy Franks.

Back in the days when I was a Community Nurse, I cared for an elderly gentleman. He had dementia, various mental issues and undergone surgery to have both legs amputated over the years. He lived alone and was able to remain in his home with our support. He mobilised with prosthetic limbs and crutches.

This particular gentleman, like my husband, LOVED hot dogs. This was ALL he would eat. JUST HOT DOGS 🌭. He would microwave them and their skins would burst. He had a habit of leaving his kitchen sink full of shriveled red hot dog skins. His entire house smelled of hot dog juice 🤢. It was tough, but we’d clean up the hotdogs and make him more, because we were giving him his quality of life, rather than our judgement.

One day, during our scheduled visit, Hotdog Man was still in bed. I went to the kitchen to start the usual tidy up of hotdog skins, to discover not only hot dog skin, but human poop in the kitchen sink. A double amputee had somehow managed to climb up with no legs and poop in his kitchen sink! 💩…. that was the day I banned all frankfurter related produce from my home!

Fast forward to this week, where I relented and allowed hotdogs back into the home. This was prefaced by “Please don’t shit in the sink?”. I made the first batch and hubby devoured them. It was such a treat to see him enjoy them. I got some more for him.
Yesterday he decided he’d make the last hotdogs for his lunch. I suggested he cook them outside using the wok-burner on our BBQ. I wasn’t home when he cooked them.

This morning, husband said to me “did you notice how I cooked my hot dogs?”
Me: “on the BBQ, like we discussed?”
Husband (proudly): “Nope! I microwaved them, but all their skins burst”
Me: 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮

We have compromised and banned hot dogs from the house again! 😝🌭❤️💩🤮

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