It’s a sad day in Brownville. The Easter candy is all done. What? How does a house of Jews have Easter candy? Well, that’s the point. We don’t. At least not anymore. I dutifully went to the after-Easter sales and loaded up. I will say that I didn’t eat a single bite of it until Passover ended, but when the holiday was over, I embraced the one that starts after: The Festival of Peeps.
I had planned on telling all of you about our spring break and how Adam and I just celebrated a wonderful 10th anniversary together–an elegant, exquisite dinner and lovely gifts. But then yesterday he annoyed me, so I won’t be telling you about that. I IM’d him yesterday:
Me: We are officially out of Easter candy.
Him: Officially? Has this been certified?
Him: Maybe I stashed some emergency Peeps.
Which made me the happiest person in the world. My husband loved me enough to know to stash Peeps for when I ran out! Joy! Happiness!! Elation! Only…
Me: Are you serious?!?
Him: No, I’m not serious. But I could have.
So now I’m here to blog to tell you what an ass my husband is. Maybe later I’ll write something nice. But don’t hold your breath.