Yesterday Madman was all coated and booted up and headed out the door when he realized he'd forgotten his checkbook. He called to me to ask if I'd grab it for him and bring it, since he didn't want to track his snowy boots all over the floor. (I sometimes think this is why men get married - so they'll have someone to fetch stuff for them so they don't track on the floor. On the other hand, if they weren't married, they could just track on the floor. Sort of a Catch-22.)
I called back to him that my checkbook was in my lunchbox right next to him, and suggested he just take that.
He opened the lunchbox and said "Mmmm.... Smelly banana lunchbox."
I'd taken a banana with my lunch on Saturday, and had saved the peel to put on the compost heap. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten to take it out of the lunchbox.
That was followed by "Mmmmm... Smelly banana paperback book." (I carry a book to read with my lunch.)
Then, "Mmmmm... Smelly banana checkbook."
Good thing my knitting doesn't fit in my lunchbox...
6 comments:
At least, it was just a banana smell.
....and not brussel sprouts.
....or onion confit.
Banana is not such a bad smell....
Or half a roast beef sandwich with mayo you couldn't finish...
Yes indeed, it could have been so much worse. :D
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