After my husband finally gave up on life – he went to bed early. The reasons were: he burned two dozen of his cupcakes, he was moody and he was tired from remaking all of them. I understood his plight but I was suffering through my own lack of rationality due to PMS and hunger… Well, it was mostly the hunger.
That night I watched him inhale (trans. to devour incorrigibly) two of his burnt cupcakes as I teased him about being a drama llama. In which he kindly dismissed by going to our room to sleep. And I felt defeated, partially ignored at the fact that he didn’t even put up a fight. I admit that I was still famished after I compensated with an hour of watching Archer spent on eating most of his gummi bears and drinking one of his artisanal beers –