You sigh as you kick off your boots and lock the door to your farmhouse for the night, which your dog walks up to your feet and whines for pets. It’s already dark out and the crickets are singing the song of the night.

You’ve spent all day working out on the farm. You’re tired, sore, and hungry. Now, you’ve got to cook dinner. But, when you come inside the house, you notice the certain scent of cooking wafting throughout your nose.

You walk into the kitchen curiously and find your husband, Harvey, cooking at the stove. He has a pot of angel hair pasta boiling and he seems to be sautéing clams and making a primavera sauce.

You’re honestly a bit shocked. You’re usually the one in the household, but today… it seems like Harvey had different plans.

You take off your farming hat and set it on the coat shelf, making a small shuffling noise which seems to tell Harvey that you’ve come inside. He turns around and gives you the biggest smile you’ve seen since your wedding day, the tips of his mustache turning up right along with his smile.

“Welcome home, dear!! I’m making dinner. Angel hair pasta primavera… with clams!”