Chickaspamwich, Anyone?

These past few weeks, I've noticed something puzzling - the hubby has been cooking and cleaning more than ever. Perhaps it's pride in the new home, or maybe it's an aversion to my cooking, but this latest development has me baffled. What's especially baffling is how his new homemaking skills manifest themselves. As Paula says to every hapless contestant on American Idol, he takes a given task and makes it his own. Above, you can see that he's elevated the of the humble sandwich to something... something... extraordinary. And below, witness how he's tricked his nephew Ryan into believing that vacuuming our floors is more exciting that going outside and playing.

I suppose I should be grateful. After all, what woman wouldn't love coming home to clean floors and a freshly cooked, uh... meal? It's just interesting how the floors get cleaned and how the meal gets prepared when a man is left to his own devices. I wonder (and worry) how he'd creatively execute other household duties. Such as doing laundry. Or bathing the pug. Or a baby.

Now I'm worried.