I just had a panic attack because I lost my guac and pico de gallo.
“I swear, I put it in the fridge!” I panicked loudly at my husband, who had innocently asked about toppings for the taco meat he was making. I had gone shopping today, and as ground beef was on sale and I’m usually feeling extra lazy after grocery shopping, I picked up things to make tacos. I also inspired the lady at the meat counter to make tacos. Because everyone likes tacos.
Anyhoo, me, just a girl, standing in front of the fridge, yelling “Where did they go too?”
Because ANYTHING is possible in this house.
Because we live with Maura.
Visions flashed in rapid fire succession in my brain. A package of guac under the couch. Pico de gallo all over the bathroom. Food containers leaking into the backpack, seeping into the carpet. The container of guac, hidden away in a toy drawer in a certain girl’s bedroom, not to be found for another three months.
ANYTHING was possible.
Luckily, they were just on the high shelf that I almost never use and obviously don’t look up at enough as I’d check the fridge three times before finding it.
But as I told Josh, after finding an open bottle of ginger soda in Maura’s backpack (which did then leak all over the backpack and seeped into the carpet) ANYTHING is possible in our house.
It’s not as inspirational as it is terrifying, that phrase.