Sue’s Views: Bring on the biltong if you please

So there I am, bent over the bath, up to my elbows in carpet cleaning suds as I wrestle the floor runner into submission when the first inkling that something is afoot pulls me out of my reverie of winning the lottery and being done with the drudgery of housework.

Mutterings and the banging of cupboard doors, followed by the clash of pots tells me the partner is up to something in the kitchen. More mutterings under its breath, designed for me to hear which go along the lines of “She always hides the bloody thing, why can’t she just leave it out where it’s easy to find?” followed by a loud sigh thrown in for good measure.

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I know what’s coming next, it’s like it has been preordained since time immemorial for men. First, it was the son many moons ago, who would throw himself against the loo door as a toddler hollering “mama, mama, where you mama?” I quickly learnt that keeping quiet only turned up the volume of demand. Peeing in peace was considered a luxury back then.

But I digress, the tantrum from the kitchen is reaching fever pitch by now, until I get the “Sue! Sue where are you, I need the biltong tray”. Now at this point, I should mention the other half makes some mean biltong, but it’s always a messy affair with vinegar and spices and lord know what vying for space on the kitchen counter.

We had discussed the making of the biltong earlier in the day when he had made rumblings of wanting to do so. “Leave it until later, then I can help you,” I suggested to which I got an “I’ve got this, I don’t need your help sweetie” and that’s where we left it.

By now the wail is in full force as he takes to stomping around the house looking for me. “Where are you, I need the biltong tray.” Counting to 10 I screech back “It’s on top of the cupboard where I told you I put it”. “No you didn’t”, says he, “Yes I jolly well did,” says I and so it goes.

More stomping, more clanging and ….silence. Hallelujah, praise the pope. I get on with scrubbing the mat. “Sue! Sue! Where is the biltong spice?” is the next wail from the kitchen. “Where you left it in the bottom drawer, use your eyes and look for it,” I holler back. “But, it’s not there, I can’t find it,” comes the plaintive response.

It’s at this point I give up, get up and stomp through to the kitchen. “There”, I point to the package lurking in the depths of the drawer.

“You didn’t even look properly did you?” I ask, snatching up the offending spices and thumping them on the kitchen counter. “Well if you didn’t hide things, I would be able to find them,” he counters.

It’s a standoff. He full of self-righteous indignation that I set out to deliberately hide things from him and me cheesed off that he can’t be bothered to look properly. That is until he cracks a smile and says, “Well, seeing as you are doing nothing and in the kitchen, make yourself useful and find me the vinegar.”

This biltong better be worth it!

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