Yesterday I was heading through the grocery store and spotted a box of Crayola crayons.
"Ah-ha!" I thought, "The perfect thing for the Easter Bunny to put in the carrots he hides." (Of course the Easter Bunny hides carrots. What would you expect him to hide?)
But, of course, I did not want D1 to see the crayons, as she has passed the age where you can just buy her gifts right in front of her. She would have known what they were and wanted them right away. So I slipped them into my pocket, vowing to remember to sneak them out and pay for them while her attention was distracted.
You can guess the denouement. I arrived home, unloaded the groceries, and encountered a forgotten lump in my pocket. I had shoplifted.
I will pay for them next time I go, I promise.
Anyway, I was still processing this discovery and putting away the groceries and getting out our lunch when I came across the dish in which I had carefully packed DOB's lunch the evening before. I sent him a text message to find out what dish, exactly, I had sent in his lunch.
It was the two-pound block of cheese.
No one has ever made the notorious comment to me that housekeeping is lacking in mental challenges. But if they ever do, I can respond with certainty that it has mental challenges far beyond my ability to cope.