I have a personal policy that every time I take out the garbage, I go through the fridge. You're married, so that won't work, but it does as a personal policy you could institute.
I have a personal policy that every time I take out the garbage, I go through the fridge. You're married, so that won't work, but it does as a personal policy you could institute.
I hope you don’t shop at Traders Joes.
Shits usually expired by the time you’re back to the car.
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She wouldn’t care is my guess.
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I think we have clearly established the need for multiple fridges.
Separate houses would probably be best.
Never in U.S. history has the public chosen leadership this malevolent. The moral clarity of their decision is crystalline, particularly knowing how Trump will regard his slim margin as a “mandate” to do his worst. We’ve learned something about America that we didn’t know, or perhaps didn’t believe, and it’ll forever color our individual judgments of who and what we are.
I think, in that case, it's called "divorce"
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FKNA man, so glad I don't deal with that shit anymore. The not-putting-lids-on-not-closing-bags/cupboards/drawers/windows/doors/toilet lid/EVERYthing used to make me mental.
Like I'd pull the bottle of milk/OJ/A-1 sauce/whatever out of the fridge, give it a shake before using and the lid would fly off and there's be a hudddggggeeeee mess everywhere. On the floor, walls, clothes, etc. God forbid any mention was made lest I become persona non grata for days.
Anyone wanna chime in on the 'one square of TP left on the roll' thing? LORDY! Brought up in a barn I tell ya!![]()
Come home from a mtn bike ride and the kitchen looks like the back bar at last call at your favorite dive bar the night before stay at home orders start.
“What the hell is going on?”
“I’m making cocktails for all my gal pals for so and so’s birthday zoom call tomorrow and I’m going to ride my bike around and deliver them tonight in these cute little mason jars.”
“That’s a cool idea. Need me to do anything?”
“Nah, just relax...I bet you’re pooped, it was pretty hot out.”
Cool. I go out to the shed, burn one down, pour a glass of nice bourbon and plop down on the sofa and watch whatever I haven’t watched on Netflix yet.
An hour and a half later, she comes in and asks what’s going on in the kitchen.
“Nothing since you left.”
“I thought it would be nice if you would have done the dishes. This is a mess.”
“Yeah, I’ll remember that the next time I have six or seven buddies over on a bender and we leave things looking like this.”
Then I got up and started doing dishes. She eventually perceived my mood and helped with an apology so there’s that.
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