Last night when I got home from work my guys were still out doing errands so I called my husband to tell him I was going to walk to the mall because I needed something at Michael's Crafts. I explained that there was pizza for him and our son and they could heat it up and eat it without me.
Husband; "isn't Michael's next to a Firehouse Subs? I could really go for a steak and cheese. And CD wants a ham sandwich. Get something for yourself too since you will be hungry when you get home." (Gee, thanks, can I really??)
Me: "I am WALKING. I don't want to carry sandwiches for 2 miles! And you have pizza!"
After a little back and forth he finally convinced me that carrying three sandwiches home wasn't going to kill me.
So I did it.
I carried three hot sandwiches for two miles.
Like a baby in the crook of my arm because the flimsy paper bag started to break. But I brought them home dinner. And when I walked In the door they were sitting at the table waiting for me.
In front of their pizza crusts.
So I did it.
I carried three hot sandwiches for two miles.
Like a baby in the crook of my arm because the flimsy paper bag started to break. But I brought them home dinner. And when I walked In the door they were sitting at the table waiting for me.
In front of their pizza crusts.
No comments:
Post a Comment