The Ginger and the divorce

Well, honestly ...what did you think was going to happen when I told the ladle story? Al does read this blog every day.

Yeah, sure. He's far too used to me by now to have heart failure at one little wee oopsie ( ...just so long as he doesn't find out about the others*, I'm good). I mean, the words "No more shopping" were only uttered once during the whole of last night. 'Once' doesn't even appear on my radar. He's got to say it about 3 times before the radar even starts beeping. 6 times is probably entering the danger zone though. Which is what layby was invented for ...that gives me 6 weeks for him to forget that I wasn't allowed to shop.


Now, onto something serious ...

Who's eaten all my creme eggs?

Two days ago, my in-laws flew out of Auckland, destined for Vietnam. Al met them for lunch before they took off (literally) and they presented him with a big bag of creme eggs (they're not back until almost Easter). Obviously, I divided these up very fairly when I got home (Al got to have the ones I don't like, so it worked out pretty well ...about an 80/20 split in my favour) and carefully put my ones away. And by 'putting away' I mean 'hiding in the dark recesses of the pantry'.

But the thing is ...they've gone. All of them. Gone. Never to be seen again. Poof! Disappeared. The dastardly thieving culprit has (presumably) eaten all my creme eggs and just left the plastic packets and empty foil wrappers (very tidily in the rubbish bin, I must say)!

And do you know what's worse??

That villainous thief has also left an extra kilo or so on my scales.

How rude!



* My darling husband, of course I'm joking. The ladle is the only oopsie in the history of me. It's ....errr ....artistic licence or something, to, you know, make stuff up for entertainment value ...and I have a lot of people to entertain here.