My hubby spent most of the day painting our house, bless his sweet heart, his aching back and sore neck muscles. At 3 p.m., when we headed over to our temporary home away from home, he said he needed some food and needed it now. I knew he was also in need of an iced coffee from the Golden Arches, so I encouraged him to swing through to get himself something to eat. It's the least I can do after the pampered life I've been leading lately.
He ordered one of those new chicken sandwiches. Southern style or something like that. It doesn't really matter, though I feel I must include this information for the sake of all you who care. All two of you.
Anyway. Back to matters of urgent importance.
When he got his sandwich, he took the top bun off to inspect what the inside looked like (this is something my hubby ALWAYS does for as long as I've known him. Even if he specifies what he wants or doesn't want on his sandwich, he always feels the need to pull off the top of the bun or piece of bread and inspect the contents of the sandwich). I don't know why he does this. He just does. After 8 years of marriage, I've learned not to ask questions. I take hours to order a sandwich sometimes, so who am I to judge?
I'll move on.
When he looked under the bun, what he saw was so shocking and so appalling that even I gasped in horror.
There were only two little pickles on the sandwich.
And they weren't big ones, either. They were so small, you might as well just NOT have bothered to put them on there.
Now, lest you take me to be a snob about food....oh forget it. I am a snob about food.
What happened next may shock you. I am truly a blog-addicted woman. I actually got out my camera phone and snapped the picture you see above which I proceeded to immediately email to myself because really, everyone should take a picture of the pickles (or lack thereof) on their sandwiches.
And I'm the kind of girl that must have a pickle in every bite of sandwich, because that's just me. I'm all about the pickles on and/or beside my sandwiches. When I order a sandwich, I always, always ask for extra pickles.
The good news is I got a great picture of the sandwich that you see above. And I giggled uncontrollably about the fact that I couldn't wait to post it on the blog to share it with you. (I know, I have issues. Big, bloggy-sized issues.)
But here's best part. After my hubby had a few moments to contemplate this pickle issue, he turned to me and said, looking completely straight-faced, "Do you think this has anything to do with the rising fuel prices?"
It was at that point that I practically laughed myself silly from the sheer comedy of it all.
I really, REALLY need to get a life.