Pickled Pigs’ Feet

Sarah K. once bought a jar of pickled pig’s feet to see how long it would take her husband to notice them in the cupboard. After several days (correction, Sarah tells me it was more like a month), she put them on the counter, then the middle of the table, and finally brought them to Derek’s attention (I believe he claimed they were not that unusual, considering Sarah’s penchant for cooking unusual things).

In the spirit of that experiment, I’m going to see how many months it takes for Paul to see this mention of him. Should I feel bad that he doesn’t ever read my blog?


5 responses to “Pickled Pigs’ Feet

  1. It was actually a whole month before I took matters into my own hands. Pig’s feet, indeed.

    I don’t think it’s a failing for your husband to not read your blog. It seems that you have the sort of relationship where you have probably already discussed anything that makes it onto the blog anyway. Yes? I have one of those, too.

  2. Yes, I suppose so. But couldn’t he be so obsessed with my every thought and movement that he would hang on my every word–both oral and written? OK, that’s creepy.

  3. Are you saying my husband’s obsession with me is creepy?!

  4. No it’s not creepy–I’m just jealous!

  5. Update–he still hasn’t read anything on my blog!

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