I was able to “brush” a bag of marshmallows into our cart last weekend. I unloaded the cart. I unpacked that particular bag, upon arriving home.
The perfect crime.
My wife went to bed. I heard the door close. I got under the afghan and queued up the ‘Dr. Who’ via Netflix. I partook. She came down the stairs.
“What are you eating?”, she asked.
“What makes you think I’m eating something?”, I replied.
“I heard the bag.”
Frickin’ shrink-wrap bags….