As I make spaghetti, I'm reminded of Steve's nasty habit of throwing cooked spaghetti at the wall to see if it was done. If it sticks, it's done. But, he wouldn't remove it. It stayed on the wall (or floor) until I noticed it. I miss that spaghetti.
Where most couples enjoy making dinner together, Steven wanted the kitchen to himself and became easily flustered if I tried to tidy up while he cooked. Even the dogs knew not to come in. They would lay with their head on their paws right at the doorways on either side. At holiday time with the house full of people everywhere, I policed the kitchen for him. It's what any good wife would do.