I made not one…but two…PB and J’s for the hubby’s lunch. And cut them on the diagonal ‘cause apparently that’s important…something about it tastes better with a diagonal cut. Really?!...okay I’ll go with it since being a tad crazy seems to run in our family...well I suppose ehh ya'll?! (I'm making it my goal to sound like a southern yankee canadian. It cracks me up to use ya'll and ehh in the same sentence.)
Anyway...these PB and J’s are a miracle. Why? Well...I was kinda on strike. Not sure why or when it started exactly. It wasn’t intentional. It just happened. Let’s just blame the strike on frostbite ehh. It was “every man (or feline) for themselves” around here. All things domestic diva and housewife-ish would no longer be tolerated!
Then after a few weeks (yes…it took weeks), the hubby started to notice. Might have had something to do with running out of clean socks. Or requests to pick up milk and eggs were met with “Don’t you work in a pharmacy? Isn’t that pharmacy located in a grocery store? Well how about I send you my shopping list…” So very mature of me...ehh?!
I crossed over my own picket line.
And it’s quite possible that the hubby may have coaxed me across with a McD’s sweet tea. With Paris's help...of course!
Ya'll...I fall for such cheap tricks...ehh!
