Today’s regular blogging schedule is interrupted because of this:
It looks innocent enough. Just a jar of peanut butter (my favourite PB), sitting on a shelf…
Today, I get home from my shift (after leaving late for the 3rd time this week) having only had time to eat my salad during shift and nothing else. I only had the chance for 1 water (water in and water out during the same 5 second escape) break too. I’m tired. It’s been a difficult week, as I’ve mentioned. Tom and I haven’t been running since Sunday so we have plans to go this evening. I’m hungry. And I need something that will keep hunger at bay and fuel me just enough for our run. This is where the peanut butter comes in. My
main only go to snack. We all know how much I love it… I get my corn thins out ready on a plate, reach for the peanut butter (on tip toes because I’m too short to adequately reach the shelf). I take hold of the jar. I open it. I dip my knife into it without thinking (I had made a mental note last night after using it that there was just enough left for a snack). Remove the knife. It is virtually clean. On further inspection I find this:
Yup. That’s right. What you are seeing is correct. “Someone” had not only finished the peanut butter, but had scraped the jar clean (further evidence below) and placed it back into the cupboard! Un-bel-ievable. I went from exhaused but calm to a raging mad woman in a matter of milliseconds. Naturally the only suspect in this crime is the husband.
So, I text him.
Because I’m ridiculously slow at texting and I’m annoyed, I figure I may as well call him AT WORK. That’s right. I did. He picked up and I shout down the phone. All the while he’s laughing at me (not helpful) and his boss can probably hear everything. And if he didn’t, I’m sure Tom filled him in when the flurry of words had ended.
As you can see, there are a number of parts to this crime.
1. Finishing the peanut butter (obvo).
2. Placing it back into the cupboard.
3. Placing it back into the cupboaard having completely scraped every accessible bit of peanut butter from the jar so there is not even some peanut butter salvagable.
I am not sure what is more shocking.
The crime itself. Or, the fact that I phoned Tom at work to shout at him for doing so. Mental? I think so. But at least I’m serious about my healthy sources of fat…
There endeth the lesson.