The phone rang late in the afternoon. It was my husband.
“I just called to apologize,” he said sheepishly.
“I can’t believe you ate the whole apple crisp!” I yelled. “I only got one little spoonful of it.” I wanted him to sweat.
” I’m sorry,” he said again. “I really didn’t mean to eat it all,” he was laughing, his apology going bad fast. “I started eating it and it was so good. I got through half of it and told myself that I better stop.”
“Yes, so why didn’t you stop?” This was a poor excuse for an apology and I wasn’t going to let him off that easy.
” I did!” He sounded so convincing. If I hadn’t found the dirty, empty baking dish in my sink this morning, I might have believed him. “Or at least I thought I did,” he continued. He was stammering and laughing simultaneously. “I stopped eating it and walked into the other room and, when I came back, it was gone!”
Complete and utter disbelief forced me into total silence for about 5 seconds.
“Seriously?” I was flabbergasted yet struggling to hold back the laughter. “That’s the best you can come up with?”
On the other end of the phone the laughter was almost uncontrollable. He continued to try to convince me that the remaining apple crisp had somehow disappeared right from under his nose. I continued torturing him, suggesting we seek some help for his apparent delusions.
Needless to say, I’ll be waking up to the sweet smell of freshly baked apple crisp this weekend….and I won’t be sharing it with anyone.