My son Ben has a bug-catcher (you know, one of those cheap plastic conical thingies with lids at top and bottom for easy entrapment), and currently residing within is an enormous bug. Fatty caught it for Ben while the kids and I were out swimming. Ben is definitely impressed. The bug is a Longicorn beetle - this I know because my husband is one of those nerdy people who owns many books entitled "What Plant Is It?", and, " Wildlife of Greater Brisbane" etc. One Christmas I scored big points with Fatty when I bought him the all-time favourite book, "What Garden Pest or Disease is That?". So you get the picture.
Lately, Fatty has become obsessed with bird-watching (no predictable jokes here, please) and if he gets off work early will not come home, but will go sneaking off into bushland, where he furtively takes photos of feathered creatures. He has found out where there are 'hides' (which are like little cubbyhouses from which one can birdwatch, for those who, like me, didn't know this) and is systematically trying them out. I'm sure this must all be my fault. Perhaps he wouldn't be compelled to birdwatch if I wore some feather boas or developed some sort of personal song, or even just gave him a peck when he got home (ha ha).
In truth, I don't mind at all, because apart from playing squash once a week, and going to the odd footy game, Fatty is really a home-and-family kind of guy. If anything, I go out more - to karate, gym, out with friends. So if he really must go be with his fluffy chirpy friends, it seems reasonable, plus provides me with an opportunity to mock him (in an extremely loving and supportive way)
It's time for me to go effortlessly whip up a gourmet meal, all the time smiling seductively and licking the spoon (like Nigella Lawson), whilst looking gorgeous and capable at the same time (like the women in the margarine ads). No problem, I do this every night. I even have an apron that says "I'm not a housewife, I'm a hornbag". I believe I look very fetching in it.