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Yesterday, I went to Target and the shelves were bare. Apparently, they're trying to give the Soviet Safeway a run for its money. Awesome.
What am I going to do about it? Abso-freakin-lutely nothing. He's a grown man. If he wants condiments (and black crud and dead batteries and matches and reciepts and guide books from our honeymoon more than a year ago) on his nightstand then I have nothing to do with that.
Men are puzzling creatures.
Have you ever found something weird around your place?
Yesterday, I wasn't feeling well. I had a sore throat and a cough and felt generally kind of achy and gross. When Chuk got home from work he offered to make dinner because clearly I had no intention of doing it, and well, also because he is nice.
This is what the kitchen looked like when he was done. Are you freaking kidding me?! What the h-e-double hockey sticks was he doing in there? I still feel like crap and now I have to clean up this mess. I'm never taking another sick day again.