Me and the wife have been playing "Call of Duty" tonight.
I've been phoning her up to check she's doing the washing, cooking and cleaning.
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I like to imagine that braille on random public signs often says: "How did you know this was here?"
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I made a really great sandwich today, cheese, ham, tomato, a crisp lettuce leaf, garnished with whole grain mustard and coleslaw, all wrapped lovingly in a fresh baguette. Anyway, I left the room, for a few minutes (due to a fairly troublesome sh!t) and when I came back in it was gone. I was completely beside myself. I checked the fridge, the microwave, desperately trying to think where I could have put it. I had a look in the oven even though I knew I couldn't have put it there. I went back to the bathroom, tears forming in my eyes (though I maintain that it was from the smell I left in there rather than my emotional trauma) to see if I might have taken it up with me. Next I rushed round my housemates' rooms trying to find a potential thief, or failing that, at least getting some help on my search.
After half an hour of looking I came to a stunning realisation... I could easily have made another sandwich in the time I had spent looking for it.
In a completely unrelated matter, I have some advice for Kate and Gerry McCan.
