A story that must be told

The story below is quite sad, in a pathetic kind of way.



Last night, while shopping at the 6th retail establishment I had been to with my MIL all in the same day, I picked up some Mission-brand tortilla strips. I love those things. Soooo good.



I was driving home with the kids when I had a light bulb moment, and several facts occurred to me simultaneously.

• My husband was about to wake up to get ready for work and would be hungry and ready for dinner, of which there was none immediately available.


• When he saw the yummy chips, he would want to eat them and the little bit of salsa left in the fridge, (here's the important part people) leaving no salsa for me to munch on with said yummy chips later.

That would not do. So how did I solve the problem? I rushed into the house, hustled into the kitchen and started looking around for a hiding place for the chips, thinking to myself, where can I put these where Brian won't find them?

The dishwasher. Yes, I opened the mostly-empty dishwasher, tucked the chips in and quickly closed and locked the door, thinking as I did it that he would never look there for dishes, much less chips. And I was right - the chips went unseen, the precious salsa was safe, and I happily munched on them after I finished my housework for the night.

Hey, I'm not proud. Obviously.

Post-post note:

My older sister asked, upon hearing this story, why I hid the chips and not the salsa, since the salsa is what I was so concerned about. That is a fine point that I never even considered. Duh.