Food confession

The other day, my husband went out to do some yard work.

He came back in less than a minute later to get the garage door opener and found me in the kitchen. The tub of ice cream was on the counter, the lid tossed aside, and I was lifting an overflowing spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream to my mouth.

He paused – just for a nanosecond – to take in the sight, and then opted not to acknowledge the situation but instead continue on with his self-assigned task.

Thank you, Mr. B, for allowing me to keep a shred of dignity.



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