Hello, y'all.
I wrote you a song. To be sung to the tune of "Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall":
Ninety-nine days til my book comes out
Ninety-nine days left to go
If only each day didn't feel like a year,
I'd still be sane by January 3rd.
Sing it loud! Sing it pretty!
If you're looking for a way to pass the time, you can enter the Goodreads massive EVERNEATH giveaway here.
So I have a friend who keeps me in tomatoes. About every other day, she brings me a bowl full of these beauties:
| The bowl is usually full, but I ate them before I took the picture |
Today, as I was sitting at the computer snacking on these little beauties, Sam was wandering around the kitchen, getting ready to leave for work.
We were talking about random stuff. He crouched down, presumably to pick up some crumbs off the floor, then he ran something under the sink. He walked over to me, asked me a question, and nonchalantly put a tomato into the bowl.
me: "Did you just sneak a tomato into the bowl?"
Sam (looking guilty): "No."
me: "I saw you." Pauses as realization hits. "You picked up a tomato off the floor... and tried to sneak it back into the bowl!"
Sam (caught in the act): "I washed it off first."
me: "I doesn't matter!" Digs the offending tomato out of the bowl. "You tried to trick me into eating a tomato off the ground!"
I handed him the tomato.
Sam: "I knew you wouldn't eat it if you saw it, even though it's totally clean because I washed it."
me: "I would've eaten it, if you hadn't been so sneaky about it. It's not the fact that it was on the floor. It's the deception involved."
Sam: "You know tomatoes are covered in dirt from the outdoors before they hit your mouth, right?"
me: "Yes. But outside dirt is much cleaner than inside dirt."
sam: "So, you wouldn't have eaten it!"
me: "Shut up."
This is what comes after thirteen years of marriage. I knew he would never want a tomato to go to waste, and he knew I'd never eat one off the floor. Some people would think it's boring to know everything about your partner, but on the contrary... this morning it was very exciting. Passersby stopped to listen, hands cupped to ears, wondering about the fate of the offending tomato.
Accusations were thrown. Punches were not. But they were contemplated. 
