proof positive that men don't listen
It's official. Mr. M doesn't listen to a word I say. Sound familiar? Girls, does your significant other only appear to be listening attentively when he is actually off in another world thinking about, oh, I don't know, maybe his bank balance/what's for dinner/girls stuck in the mud? Here's what happened to me last weekend.
Mr. M: I brought you a present!
Me: Oooh, thank you! What is it?
Mr. M: Here.
Me: Oh...it's a...jar of mustard.
Mr. M: Well, I know how much you like mustard. But you're not looking all that happy. Is something wrong?
Me: No, no, nothing wrong. It was very sweet of you, even if it's actually YOU who adores mustard. I like it just fine, though. It's just that I'm pretty sure we already have several jars in the fridge. Remember we talked at length about trying to go easy on the condiments because they take up so much room? Remember the Absolute Condiment Verbot?
Mr. M: Oh, um, yeah, I guess I forgot. Yeah, that's it. And besides, I really thought we were out of mustard. You sure we still have some?
Me: I'm positive.
Twelve containers of mustard. Twelve. Three squeeze bottles and nine jars. German, French, Swedish, Danish. Mild, spicy, grainy, herbed. A mustard for every possible occasion and taste.
I'm just hoping this condiment hoarding thing isn't hereditary.
On a brighter note: it's December and that means only one thing - cookies! You can NEVER have too many cookies. Stay tuned...