A woman who set the table for thirty thousand times

Having a husband who works at home, I set the table three times a day, at least a thousand times a year. With 30 years of marriage, there is no denying that I have been set the table around thirty thousand times.

Of course, the food was not pleasant to the eater, but my mother-in-law praised me, saying, "You have no food skills, so my son did not get adult diseases so that he is old."

I'm sick and tired of thinking about it that I do grocery shopping. Only three or four times a year, on our way home after jogging, I asked my husband, "Can we stop by the market to buy milk, juice, eggs, and bread?" He said, "no," because he doesn't want carry heavy grocery. Then I have to carry the heavy thing around at any time and does he mean he doesn't have to do? Even though he eats almost everything.

The moment we pass the supermarket, I said, "Wouldn't you go?" "Where?" It is at the door of the market, which was divided over whether we should stop by or not. I lost my say-so and just came home.

I'm not asking you to carry them alone. I'm going to share them with you. The fact that I carried those heavy grocery shopping bags and set the table thirty thousand times is nothing, because those which my husband ate all gone through the bathroom without skipping a day.

For me who gets into a lot of accident every time I drive out, my husband often takes me to a Korean or American market. He sat in the car and reads newspaper while I was shopping grocery. Whenever I entered the market, I became impatient or flustered. When I came home, there were missing items because I didn’t shop properly. I waited for the day to go to the next market, but he rarely gave him a chance under the pretext of being busy.

Other husbands are good at cooking. If he ever set the table and asked me to eat once, why would I complain so long? "Don't tell someone that you're good at work. If you say so you become a kitchen maid." My late mother, who used to say, seems to be spinning beside me without any help.

If born again, not as a woman. I wish I could not be born as a wife of a man who did not thank me very much even though I has been cooking for him more than thirty thousand times.

In the next world, I hope I will be a small blade of grass that is born as a weed and falls in the wind in a wide field with a river view.