That volleyball team board of directors meeting I mentioned yesterday? The one that was so painfully scheduled for a Friday night?
It lasted THREE HOURS. It is now 10:00 p.m.
I have not had anything to eat. I am used to being fed at extremely regular intervals.
My husband, who was perfectly pleasant at the meeting, has allowed his normal food-deprived self to emerge now that we're at home. We are speaking in clipped voices with extra emphasis on the words "dear" and "honey."
We were supposed to go to Bob Evans for our date night, but they're closed.
I was going to get a pot roast sandwich, but was cheated --
cheated! -- out of it by that long-running meeting. Photo
credit: copyright (c) 2007 Bob Evans
He's out walking the dogs. When he gets back, we're going to decide where to go. It may be White Castle. This is fine with him; I'd rather eat the contents of a pencil sharpener's case. Without ketchup.
I am hu-u-u-u-ungry.
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