What kind of question is this— 2
I still don’t know what marmite even IS.
this is ridiculous i need a serious answer
I’m assuming I know the thing in question — I’m very glad that we’ve started forgoing proper nouns, abandoning all pretenses and acknowledging that he’s just a thing.
∙ who is the big spoon/little spoon
Ehm. It was always circumstantial, whenever we wound up on the couch. Most of the time I ended up being the…”little spoon” just because I’m……….
a bit smaller.
It wasn’t bad.
∙ what is their favorite non-sexual activity
Cricket because I’d win all the time.
No, that’s not an exaggeration at all.
I suppose bickering would go here, a comfortable, ever constant fixture that’s a bit difficult living without.
∙ who uses all the hot water in the morning
Me, because exploiting his resources is something I feel completely entitled to do.
∙ what they order from take out
I resolutely reject ordering take out, there’s nothing better than a home cooked meal.
Though, when I ended up too exhausted to raise my arms, Arthur did come home with fish and chips from some shop he was partial to.
It wasn’t terrible, especially when he got the sauce I liked.
∙ what is the most trivial thing they fight over
Nothing is trivial, everything’s always been very important. Everything from accidental marriages to stealing sweaters to unicorn clouds has always been paramount to life as we know it.
∙ who does most of the cleaning
I mean, when I moved in, I said I was washing my hands of all responsibility, but I did tidy up a fair bit. Arthur’s a bit all over the place, and that includes his humble abode, but I can attest to him trying at least. After the cubs made themselves at home though, it was a bit of a hopeless endeavor.
∙ what has a season pass in their DVR
Oh Doctor Who, obviously; I always ended up watching whatever episode he would watch. I also had a couple for some Indian dramas I kept up with, which he would sit in on and loudly disparage, as twatwaffles are wont to do.
∙ who controls the netflix queue
Well right now, I’m bumming off his account so it’s partially at his mercy, but I have enough Bollywood to keep me happy.
∙ who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working
Never had this problem, but I’d probably take it upon myself to do the talking. I’ve been told several times that I can be very frightening. I don’t know, I think that’s a compliment.
∙ who steals the blankets
I always interpreted his gaze varying from stormy longing bedroom eyes to ‘yes of course you can take all of my throws all of them even the ones in my room even the one I might be shivering under’.
So, I would hardly call it stealing.
When we ended up collapsing on the couch that was never an issue because apparently I “burrow and cling to warmth like some tiny angry badger”, whatever that means.
∙ who leaves their stuff around
Like I said, he’s a mess, so of course his things were always lying around. I’m not naturally messy but I tended to leave my things around the house as well, in a sort of because-I-can-why-don’t-you-try-and-stop-me way.
Marking my territory like the aggressive, dominating presence in the household that I am.
∙ who remembers to buy the milk
I usually did when I could, but Arthur was very accommodating after he got used to the bombardment of text messages about groceries.
You know, he was completely helpless when I moved in, empty, messy house, almost nothing in the fridge! Before, he always ate out or ate the (arguably inedible) food he made himself—
…I’d like to think I was good for him.
Or at least, my cooking was.
∙ who remembers anniversaries
Haha, I don’t think we were around each other long enough to celebrate any accidental matrimony. He made good on his promise to return the Koh-i-Noor, though.
So, it’s Arthur who remembers them.
I think this exceptional comment warrants more than one—
…..Aaloo. Potatoes, of course.
Being able to stream Netflix from here. It’s quite nice, even with the overabundance of stuffy period dramas.
Chutney, but my own recipes. Obviously. English chutneys are an aberration and should be internationally banned.
X, why would you give me x.
Oh, I don’t know… I don’t feel very strongly about xylophones. How about you get ~Arthur X. Kirkland~
what does the x even stand for to get me some options, all the x words in this blasted language are escaping my mind right now.
Faizabad— not to be confused with the city in Pakistan, Faisalabad. Fft. That’s what it’s called now, named after some Saudi prince. Such blatant ass-ki— Ahem, anyways.
It’s a little self-indulging to list a city of mine, but it’s the truth! Lovely place, even after it was uprooted and turned into a temporary military headquarters by the Mughals.
Wine—ha, I’m just kidding! Though, I’ve always had a bit of a weakness for Persian wine.
Does ‘putting down wickets’ count?
If not, then I suppose I’ll settle for weddings. It can’t be helped, I love a good wedding.
Not having to look prim and proper for meetings—gods, it’s such a relief. Not to say I look like Bertha Mason up here, but braiding fresh flowers into my hair every so often is an opportunity that I appreciate.
Lotuses, they are my favorite flower after all.
meditations upon the words of english nincompoops: a poem. “ha ha ha / WHAT ARE YOU EVEN / ha”
“Add just add one eighth teaspoon red chili pepper flakes”
“I like things really spicy, so I’m gonna add just a pinch of pepper flakes, but you can add less!”
“Make sure to rib and de-seed that Serrano pepper or else you might hurt your dinner guests!”
“Paprika gives this a real kick!”
“I’m gonna turn up the heat with a green bell pepper!”