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This morning, Charles requested eggs and bacon for breakfast. I said sure, why not! and started frying up some bacon which turned out to possibly be a bit old. Charles, being Charles, insisted upon “helping” which meant I was turning bacon with one hand and using the other to try and keep him from sticking his hand into the hot fat. Great times.

I said to Sarah, “I bet some toast would keep him out of my hair, do we have any bread?”

“I don’t think so…there was just a little in the bag, but I don’t remember throwing it away…”

“If that was the only loaf, I threw it away the other day,” I said. “I thought we had another lying around.”

“No, that was it.”

“Oh well.”

I continued frying the bacon, while Sarah went to the gym to get her flex and floss on. Charles and I had eggs and bacon, played inside, played outside, played inside, had a couple meltdowns over puzzles and games and stuff because he’s 2, and then Sarah came home, with a bunch of bags of stuff from little shopping stops. I asked her,

“Did you get bread?”

Her responses are paraphrased because it was like 25 minutes ago and I can’t even remember my name for more than 8 minutes at a go, but she said, approximately,

“Why the hell would I get bread?”

“Because we were out of bread!”

“I didn’t go to the store!” she shouted, dropping bags from coffee joints, dollar stores, head shops, crack houses, etc.

“You could have!”

“Why the hell would I go to the store?”

“Because we were out of bread!”

“I only went to the coffee place for a breakfast sandwich!”

“A sandwich would be nice! I’d make one too, but we don’t have any #%&@ing bread!!!“

“Fine, after I finish my %&$#ing sandwich I’ll go to the @$%#ing store and buy you some #%$&ing bread!”

At this point the ratio of expletives to useful information went over the limits of a family website; basically we just started giving each other the finger and getting out our laptops to look up divorce lawyers.