She's Thoughtful, Considerate, Beautiful, And Is A Whiz At Critical Thinking. And She's A Sucker For A Pot Roast.

Somewhere On The New England Coast

I have heard of domestic bliss, but I'm not sure I have ever experienced it. Tonight is a good night, though. I'm sitting at the table that is our everything, including my office.  

Eve is drying dishes after she and I dove into an incredible pot roast. I'm not pulling down dish duty because I skilfully put a pot roast in a crockpot, then added some water, some spices, and some chopped vegetables. 

The real labor in all of this was turning the knob on the pot from OFF to LOW. You have to get it just right, and this is what Eve does not understand. I turn that knob like a pro.

The house smelled incredible when she got home.

Have I mentioned Eve is beautiful and I'm admiring her perkiness while she dries a dish? She is a total slice, always right out of the oven and in a flannel shirt today.

During dinner, I brought up the subject of her staying at her apartment for a few nights since I expect trouble from someone who wants Gerry Tanner's computer, which is on the table next to me. I told her there was a possibility of gunfire and other assorted violence. I reminded her that two people were already dead because of the computer. 

I did my best to make it sound like a weather forecast. I threw in a few zingers.

"There is a 90% chance of high velocity lead flying in the air." 

Eve just looked at me.

"Statistics show that bad guys usually travel in twos and that the chance of me getting overpowered for this computer is high."

By now, Eve knows when I'm serious about something, and I was being serious now.  

She said to me "This is for real Allston?"

"Eve, this is real, and I'm worried about it."

At that, she pushed her black hair back a bit and turned again toward the sink. Have I told you that I love her butt?

She said, "Give me a minute to think about it, Allston."

Holy Moly, she's listening to reason after I provided all the facts. I do love her.

She put the dish down on the counter and turned toward me.  Her blue eyes were radiating, and they seemed larger than usual, and then she said,

"F you, Allston" "If you have trouble coming, we have trouble coming." 

She continued,

"Did your pea brain make you forget I'm a Tennessee woman?"

"We stand with our man."

"You spelled out the bullshit we might experience because of your job early on, and I still signed up." 

"I'm not going anywhere."

​"F you again."

What can a man do or say after this thoughtful response to a logical request?

All I could come up with was, "Did You like the Pot Roast?"

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