Last night I didn't arrive home until just after 7 PM. My stomach was rumbling as I walked in the door.
"Hey sugah," said Blair, coming to meet me and give me a kiss.
"Hey. Did you eat yet?" I asked.
"I sure did."
"How was it?"
"How was what?"
Knowing I'd be home late, I had made a spinach soufflé and side dishes earlier that afternoon and tucked them away in the fridge. I'd left a note on the kitchen counter telling Blair what there was for dinner. Which he had obviously ignored.
"Did you not eat the soufflé I made?" I demanded.
How could he not have seen it? It was sitting on the middle shelf of the fridge in an 8" pie pan, covered in tinfoil.
"What did you have for dinner?" I asked.
"A leftover tunafish sandwich from lunch and Cap'n Crunch cereal."
"I made you a nice dinner," I said, pointing to my note.
"Oh, I didn't see that."
"Never mind." I sighed as I set about reheating the soufflé for my dinner. Blair disappeared into the bedroom and came out in his lawn mowing clothes.
"Did you see any ants today?" he asked. Two days ago we noticed 10-15 ants around our kitchen sink. Blair looked up some sugar/water/Borax solution on the Internet that involved placing cotton balls dabbed in the deadly mix around the perimeters of the counter top. I'd expressed my doubts about it working, but it seemed to have done the trick.
"Nope, no ants," I said. "And I would have seen them because I was in the kitchen a lot this afternoon. Making a soufflé. For your dinner." I gave him a pointed look.
There was a brief pause.
"Well, you are just determined to be ug-ly about this."
I couldn't help but burst out laughing.
And for the record, the soufflé was NOT good.