Bread heels.

Ah, the life of the "married." 

All sweet and cooey and lovey until I get home. Fortunately, the house is quite tidy. However.. when the cat is away, the mouse will use all her stuff and not replace it, such as pricey organic facial toner (the little weenie has perfect, model skin, yet she feels the need to use skin-care products designed for my acnified ass (not my actual ass, I was using a euphemism there for my face.. by.. comparing it to my ass. Shut up.), and CHOCOLATE SYRUP when all I could THINK ABOUT was a tall, cold, delicious glass of CHOCOLATE MILK. 

Also, there are three bags of bread heels. These were callously shunned to the back of the cupboard, apparently in hopes that they would vanish completely and release her from her guilt of wasting those expensive chunks of wheat and sugar. 

A note was left. "I put so-and-so in the fridge to thaw for dinner... go get some side dish stuff," followed closely by kissy gooey I-love-you stuff. Sure. Make the kid who's been in the seat of a vehicle for thirteen hours in the past two days go grocery shopping. I searched the fridge twice for said thawing substances and was, peculiarly, left wondering if my blind spots had grown larger. I see no thawing substances! Shall I withdraw something similar from the freezer? If so, and I have somehow overlooked the camouflaged foodpiece, I could face scorn and the same meal twice in two days. Is it worth it? Or shall I just taunt her when she returns home after a long day of manual labor when she finds she wrote the note before opening the freezer and thus forgot to, then, open the freezer? I think you know what I'll do.

I'd like to note that I didn't notice our heartbreaking lack of chocolate syrup until my return from the market and the cool creamy milk had already been dispensed into said tall glass. Chips and popcorn from two weeks ago are still aging on the shelves. These were delicious - what happened? What has she been eating for two weeks, if not the deliriously yummy foods left behind by the loving wife? Certainly not bread heels.

Ah, if she wasn't so cute and cuddly, and if her absurd antics didn't make me laugh out loud even when I try not to, I don't know what I would do. At least there are no errant beer cans, pizza boxes, or pee stains on the floor where she was too lazy to excuse herself to the restroom. I suppose stale chips and a sour lack of syrup isn't so bad afterall. 

I sure wish she would come home so I could love on her.

(After writing this post, I was vehemently assured that my toner was used only once... so I just wanted to note that for the record.)