Jillian R.

Here's how a man's brain works...or at least my man’s.

In this part of the world, bread always has to be refrigerated. I happened to leave mine ours out for a couple of days because there's no room in the fridge.

This morning, the following scenario happened;

Me: Honey (okay, I don't call Eric "honey", but let's just say I do, for dramatic effect), why don't you have some bread with your bacon, eggs are almost ready.

*continues scrambling eggs*

Eric: There’s mold on the bread, but it’s on the side so I picked it out *points at a corner of the bread, carefully placed on the side of his plate*. The centre’s still good

Me: Eww! Eric! Then you throw the whole piece out! Give it to me! *looks at the loaf of bread* Ohmygod! The entire loaf has mold on it!

Eric: *reluctantly hands over his piece of bread* but I already put butter on it, see?

Really? Baby, I love you, but if you’re reading this, butter? Really?
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