My wife yelled from the kitchen, “You took the last of the milk!”
She has accused me of many things but for once she was right.
I quickly explored my options for denial but this was a tough one. I did indeed drink the last of the milk before slipping the empty carton back into the refrigerator.
It happened during a moment of madness.
I had taken a foray into the forbidden realm of pepperoni pizza and shortly thereafter needed something, anything, to quench the fire. The refrigerator was close, so I went for the milk.
That was on Wednesday.
This was Friday.
I don’t know how things work around your house but around here we have an iron rule that says whoever takes the last of anything, replaces it. Which explains why a quarter inch of milk had been sloshing around the bottom of the carton for the better…
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