Sometimes men are just men and there is nothing you can do about it. Tonight we had a nice talk, and a good dinner that was followed by a desperately needed trip to Wal-Mart for chips, canned peaches and the like to put in the kids school lunch. All healthy stuff, cause Sher's teacher is a B-E-A-R about healthy snacks. My take on it is; I am her mother and if I want to send her with a bag of sugar for a snack, I should be allowed to do so, but I digress. Only healthy snacks for Sher.
So after the nice night, snuggly-wuggly and walking with hands in each others pockets (the truest sign of affection by the way) K walks around the kitchen, dripping gasoline all over the place in his attempt to find a funnel in the kitchen drawers. I sent him right back outside, but the smell of gas had already permeated the entire downstairs. He says there was no gas and it was only the gas smell concentrated solely on his left hand. I told him to take his left hand outside- and the rest of him too. He said he guessed I wasn't being sweet anymore. He guessed right. Laters.
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