If there's one thing I've learn in twenty-six years of marriage, it's that if, on the first night in months that you decide to actually cook something other than grilled chicken and salad (in this case, chicken and vegetable soup AND chicken pot pie for Daniel - I really can cook when I feel like it) and so you're busy in the kitchen, chopping veggies, opening drawers, going back and forth from the stove to the oven to the fridge, the sink, the island...and your husband decides at that same moment that it's time to tighten up drawers and cabinet doors and put knobs on the island drawers that have sat knobless for about three years, so he has a drill, screwdrivers, and other tool-like things scattered around and cluttering up the counters and you have to reach over him and be careful not to bump his head or spill something on him...you say absolutely nothing except "thank you, babe."