Angel of Dea...- Er, 'Ice Cream'...

Two things I find ironic:
Everyone's love affair with Palin.
Why: because people are just as taken by her "awesomeness" as Democrats are fascinated with Obama. I'll leave my political opinion out of it- (wait... this is an opinion piece) ...But, I guess my point is: For either side, just cut the charismatic god/goddess hype out of it, and you might have room to think, without being swayed by what your "itching ears want to hear".

That people are dissatisfied with the weather.
Why: because either it's too rainy, or too cold, or people just "hate" this weather. Are you freaking kidding me? CAN you change it? Okay then. Maybe only in China where it always rains on Thursday, but here? Nope.

---

So, now on to something else:
We either have an Angel in our loft that loves to eat Ice Cream, and leaves it out overnight, or it's my husband.
My husband denies it (though we BOTH know it's him), and it's certainly not me. I don't have "NS-RED" (Nocturnal Sleep-Related Eating Disorder) or compulsive hyperphagia, because there would be a bowl and spoon the next morning to prove it. Unless I also have a compulsive nocturnal dishwashing disorder coupled with compulsive hyperphagia, but the percent chances of that are like nill, so pretty much NOT a possibility.
Since we know that Angels don't really eat...
Wait a second.
They don't do they?
Anyway, I don't think they do.
Maybe they do. But not because they have to...
Anyway, I really don't think it's an Angel.
Now I know there are cooking Angels, because Aunt Andrea told me they've had one (that household has food multiply weekly), probably adding things to pans when she wasn't looking. Anyway, regardless of the science of how food suddenly multiplies, why would an Angel eat my Ice Cream, without multiplying it, or putting it back in the freezer?
Exactly.
So, picture this. The previous night, Paul served he and I, Ice Cream. It was superb, especially since he served it, AND took my bowl to the sink when we were finished, filling them up with water to sit overnight (cleaning up for me! What a treat! I really appreciated it!). I went straight to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. I already had a glass of water in the bedroom, so I didn't need to go to the kitchen and get some before bed, so I DIDN'T go into the kitchen at all. The next morning, I am getting out of the shower, and I go into the kitchen to warm up the toaster oven and begin breakfast. To my HORROR, the WHOLE box of Special Edition Deluxe Peanut Butter Brownie Fudge yummy goodness (minus two servings- so in other words MOST of an entire 1/2 gallon box of Ice Cream) was sitting in a thick sticky syrupy puddle on my countertop, and seeping between the counter and stove. A WHOLE BOX! Not only of Ice Cream, but of a SPECIAL EDITION DELUXE PEANUT BUTTER BROWNIE FUDGE! "Oh, my GOSH!" I yelled at my husband who groggily jumped out of bed, and shouts, 'What, what?!?!?!"
"ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!" I pointed to the mess.
"It wasn't me. I SWEAR!" he responds, rubbing his eyes, and sweeping the hair out of his face.
"Well.... How do you explain it then?" I say
He mumbles something like, "You were in the kitchen last..."
I then explained the whole thing about NOT being in the kitchen after eating Ice Cream, and that he kindly took our bowls to the sink, etc.
"Well..." he says, still groggy, but very much awake "Think there was an Angel that likes Ice Cream"?
Um.... "No... I don't."
"Well, I'm not accepting responsibility for this," he says, pointing at the mess.
We threw the entire BOX in the trash, used a washcloth about 12 times to get all the Special Edition Peanut Butter Fudge Brownie meltedness off everything, and he crashed back into bed.
Several times during the day, he said again to himself, 'It... wasn't me. Just WASN'T...."
I told him I forgave him, and it was okay, and he said, "Okay, thank-you, but I'm not accepting responsibility"...
He did go and buy some more ice cream several nights later, finally acquiescing in quiet words that "it was possible..." But I still think he'd rather blame an Angel.
Poor Angel.
(Or smart... if the Angel actually convinced my husband in the end that HE did leave it out)...

By-The-Way... When I learned the rules of Capitalization, I was told that you Capitalize things that are important.
Therefore, Ice Cream is ALWAYS capitalized.

1 comments:

  1. Yo! Sara Reedy is, I think, 18. She hasn't been in a while... but she counts. :) I should change it to 15... i thought of that after the fact.... see you tonight! and saturday! and sunday! :)

    ReplyDelete

 

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Camilla EuDaly Barrett is a freelance photographer and designer with 6 years of expertise and 15 years of loving cameras and 'messing around' graphically on computers. By career she is a nationally certified Sign Language Interpreter.