We're on our way home from Maryland this weekend,
minutes from home, to be exact, when Hubs realizes he needs
to put gas in my car (after driving all over God's creation all weekend)
and if we'd like to eat something
for dinner other than wine and leftover Halloween candy,
stop at the grocery store for a box of macaroni.
Meanwhile, Sullivan is in the backseat and it's
taken us nearly three hours to get home.
And we've already stopped at PetSmart for
overpriced "poop bags."
[in the grocery store parking lot]
Hubs: I'm just running in for a box of macaroni
AP: [as the door shuts] and coke!
Hubs: [huffing and puffing, storms away]
Literally 5 minutes later...
AP: Well, that wasn't bad now was it?
Hubs: [as serious as ever] Obviously, because I wasn't dollywagging.
AP: [on the verge of hysterics] dollywagging?
AP: I'm sorry, don't you mean lollygagging?
Hubs: [desperately trying to keep a straight face] Just go with it.