Several years ago we had a few people over for dinner, and one of our guests said something I’ll probably never entirely forget. Typically, guests in our home sing the praises of my spouse, who is a great cook. For the most part, I enjoy this dynamic: I love my spouse, I love his cooking, and I love how, as an introvert, he shines in a way that is subtle and generous and delicious. And when he cooks dinner, I do what I do best—iron the napkins, set a nice table, talk to our guests, and brew some decaf.
But at this particular dinner, one of the guests praised my spouse and the fruits of his hard work, then turned to me, and in a tone that seemed at least a little unkind, gave me this wisecrack: “So what if anything do you do around here??”