Sushi Nomi

Sundays: You’ve changed. Plus, sushi.

Last night we got a bit cray-cray and watched Wedding Crashers followed by The King of Comedy.

In keeping with living on the edge, I ate dinner–some sushi and sashimi that we picked up from Sushi Nomi on Roncesvalles–in my new white cotton Ralph Lauren romper.

It took about 37 seconds before I had soy sauce spilled all down the front.


Beast: Why do you insist on wearing white to dinner?

Foodie: I really wanted to wear my new romper.

Beast: Whenever we get pizza, you’re wearing one of your fancy white nighties and you always get hot peppers all over it. Maybe just stop wearing white to dinner.

Foodie: What do you mean “to dinner”? You mean “to the couch, where we eat in front of the television?”

It had been a long day. First, we had lunch with the Beast’s mom. Then the three of us went to the Bay where I purchased that romper ($149 down to $30!) I also bought a new mattress set ($2,500 down to $900!)

It’s one of those very tall mattresses that all the hotels seem to have. It’s eight inches higher than the one we have now. I can’t recall ever being more excited about a purchase. It arrives next Saturday.

We didn’t pick up the sushi until 8:00 p.m. We were tired and hungry. At least picking the movies was stress-free. Neither of us ever seem to tire of  Wedding Crashers. It’s Vince Vaughn at his finest.

I’d never seen The King of Comedy, which stars Robert De Niro, Jerry Lewis and a dazzling Sandra Bernhard. The Beast picked it. I’m so glad he did. The film, which Martin Scorsese directed, could’ve been made yesterday.



Besides staining the new romper, it was a wonderful night.

I woke up, however, with some anxiety. The Beast, who has worked almost every Sunday since I’ve known him, is henceforth taking them off. As you may know, Sundays are my days: I read the paper and drink coffee. I do personal grooming. I do the laundry. I map out my Metro column. I write this blog. I grocery shop. I iron while I watch  TV shows that the Beast hates, like HannibalHomeland and House of Cards.  I make my weekday lunches and Sunday night dinner while I listen to the CBC.  Before I know it, he’s home by 8:00 p.m. I speak to no one until then.

What would my favourite day of the week look like with the Beast at home?

It started out great. We both read the paper in the sunroom and drank coffee. Then, the questions started. For example, he pointed at a photo of Gisele Bundchen, perhaps the most famous model in the world, and asked what her name was.

The questions–“How much white rice would I have to eat before my poo turned white?”–continued as I tried to go about my day. I put on my usual Sunday attire: a pale blue romper that I wear without a bra, which the Beast found distracting.

Then he started vacuuming the house in his underwear, which I did not find distracting. What was distracting was that he was vacuuming the dining room: the room I usually work in on Sundays. He tore the room apart.


When he finished that room there were more questions, like “If you were me, what loafers would you wear today?”


I retreated back to the sunroom to eat a peach, which dripped all down the front of my Sunday romper. I was devastated by my romper lack of luck.

Beast [Over top of the vacuum cleaning, which he was now doing in the sunroom]: What’s wrong?


Beast [Turning off the vacuum cleaner]: Are you okay?

Foodie: I got peach juice all down my Sunday romper and I already started the light-coloured laundry load!!!!!!

Beast: Let me help you get it off.


Beast: You know what helps with anxiety?

Foodie: I am going to start some research for my column upstairs.

[He followed me upstairs.]

Beast: What do you think of this outfit?


Foodie: [Silence]

Beast [back in his underwear]: Can I ask you some home decor-related questions?

Foodie: Yes.

Beast: I want to hang these instruments on either side of this picture.


Foodie: Fine.

Then he put on some music because the Beast needs a soundtrack for every activity.

Foodie: Would you mind changing the music?

Beast: You’re not enjoying progressive rock legends “Yes”?

Foodie: No, I’m not. I need to do some work. Maybe some classical music?

[He put on Louis Armstrong]

Foodie: I said classical music. You need to turn this off right now or I am going to lose my shit.

Beast: You didn’t specify what kind of classical music so I chose African American classical music. That’s what Jazz is!!

Foodie: [Silence]

Beast: You know what you are? You’re a bully, Jess. You use fear and intimidation to get your way.

Foodie: I’m just not used to not speaking to anyone for like 12 hours straight on Sundays!!!!

Beast: Well then stop talking so much! And stop bullying me!

He left the house to buy moth traps and hangers because he doesn’t have enough for his 1,347 shirts. I got some work done. Then, I felt terrible about being “a bully”.

When the Beast got home, I apologized. He accepted the apology. “No matter how hateful you are,” he said, “you will never be able to push me away from you.”

Then he started showing me pictures he found on Tumblr. There was one of Dennis Hopper, John Ford and John Huston. “Isn’t it incredible?” he asked.


He also found one of Miles Davis and Quincy Jones. “Doesn’t Miles look like a beautiful woman?”


“Yes, he does,” I said.

“This is basically us,” he said.

“Yes, it is,” I replied.

After at least 60 seconds of silence, the Beast asked who would be Miles and who would be Quincy. I told him I had to think about it and carried on with my work.

“I’ve thought about it,” he said after a few more minutes of quiet. “I’m Miles and you’re Q.”

Then I hugged him and gave up on work because fuck it. It’s Sunday.

4 replies »

  1. Love this – and feel pretty much the same way about my children right now after having them under foot for the summer. Sadly I can’t say fuck it for 2 full months and not work. Looking forward to the bus coming to haul them away for 8 hours a day…. in 14 days. Then I will like them again.

    My husband, who has banned white from my wardrobe at ALL times (he does the laundry), will still be around and spends a lot of time in his undies too. I kind of wish he was cleaning.

  2. Bahaha!! “How much rice would I have to eat…?” If I were wearing a white romper whilst reading this….. It would be covered in the coffee I just spit out while laughing so hard. Haha… two are the best :)))) Oh….and I soooo hear you on needing 12 hours of not talking to anyone….or hearing anyone else talk ;). But he adores you ❤

  3. I can totally relate. Made me laugh so hard as I too have “my” Sundays mapped out when I have a blissful 5 hours of alone time when my husband works. I HATE when he decides to not go in the office, which is rare, but happens on occasion. …and then I feel selfish and mean(!) for wanting him to work. Great article…glad I just discovered your blog…addicted, love it!

  4. I think the Beast could earn a pretty penny doing exactly what he is pictured doing above for a discerning, wealthy clientele, *and* it would get him out of the house. Problem solved! “Pleasingly hirsute male will take care of your discrete domestic cleaning needs. Sundays only. Undies only. Call for prices.”

    Just a thought.

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