I had called Kevin up to ask him to hit the grocery store, rather than going together–I just wasn’t in the mood to go out, after a miserably long day mucking out my computer’s files and coping with glum PMS.

He came home with a mountain of comfort food–fudge, potato chips, apple pie–and then proceeded to make bacon-wrapped steak and mashed potatoes.

"I had a horrible day and PMS…and you brought pie?"

"Don’t you DARE cry!" he said, prepping the pie to bake in the oven.

"…*sniff*…I won’t…" 

My waistline may never recover, but it’s all good.

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