Kris and I have a house policy that ensures life-long marital bliss. It goes like this:
You cook, I clean. I cook, you clean.
Simple, yet very powerful. It means that, when it comes to food at least, all chores are shared. Of course, there's wiggle room in that policy. Health, deadlines and other issues, so sometimes the same person cooks and cleans. Fortunately, that's pretty rare.
When we're lazy, the policy shifts slightly to:
I order, you pick up. You order, I pick up.
Usually, I do the ordering, Kris does the pick up.
Tonight, after returning home from the ASA MVP workout class, Kris did not want to leave the house. He offered pizza for dinner, I agreed, and he ordered.
Uh oh. He ordered? That means, oh no. I have to go pick up? Ugh!
Kris must have sensed this, because he offered roshambo instead of handing me the car keys, "Best 2 of 3. It was marital advise." (documented on our wedding video). So, I agreed.
And won decisively in the first two throws.
It was a crushing defeat. Worse roshambo ever. Kris ran away with the Cranberries, "In your head-ed! In your heh-eh-eh-ed!" ringing in his ears.
Poor Kris. Never rosham away what you already have.