Blair walked in the other day and I greeted him at the front door with folded arms and a thundercloud over my head.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Is there anything you want to tell me?" I demanded. "Because I didn't think we had the kind of relationship where we kept secrets from each other. So if there's anything--anything--you want to get off your chest, I suggest you do it now."
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Blair.
"Well why don't you just go into the kitchen and see," I said.
Looking more concerned with each step, Blair strode down the hall toward the kitchen. As he stepped inside he yelled, "Dammit, woman," and I broke out laughing.
Lined up on the counter were the three boxes of Girl Scout Cookies I'd discovered while snooping upstairs for the hidden stash of dark chocolate he keeps on hand for me. He'd hidden the cookies well. For months they'd resided in the decorative desk at the top of our stairs. But now, he was busted.
"You need to learn to respect other people's privacy," he said.
"You need to learn to not bring that crap in the house," I retorted.
"Man," said Blair, shaking his head. "I was going to keep those hidden until you were having a really bad day and then pull them out and be, like, this hero."
"Aw, you're still my hero," I said, hugging him.
"No, no. Save it," he said prying my arms off him. "It's all ruined. Just.. I don't think I can talk about it."
Fast forward to this afternoon. In an effort to NOT eat the other sleeve of thin mint cookies that was the twin of the one I'd polished off yesterday, I had stored them in the freezer. This, I decided, wasn't enough. I'm obviously incapable of limiting myself to a cookie or two at a time, so I decided to throw the second sleeve out. I reached into the freezer and pulled out the silver-lined package and...
"Dammit, Blair!" I yelled. I charged toward the front room where he was watching TV, waving around the tinfoil package I'd grabbed by mistake from the freezer. "Did you stick a second box of thin mint cookies in the freezer?!"
"What the hell?" he yelled. "What did we just discuss about privacy?"
"It's the FREEZER," I said.
"It's MY DRAWER in the freezer," he said. (It's true. He has the bottom shelf where he keeps his meat.) "Why were you in MY shelf?"
"Because that's where the thin mints landed when I threw them in there yesterday," I said. "And now...this, this outrage." I shook the new sleeves of thin mints at him.
We keep yelling at each other but by this time we're both laughing so hard we can barely breathe. Blair tells me I'm hopeless and I remind him that I will always, sooner or later, find out every secret of his and he'd do well to remember that.
I had to stuff three sleeves of thin mints into the garbage can today which absolutely broke my heart. However, as I stuffed away I could only think of one thing.
I do so love that man of mine.