what big eyes you have

The thing about making a gigantic dish of pulled pork and living with someone who loves pulled pork as much as you do is that you have to eat as much pulled pork as you can as quickly as possible lest it all disappear into the belly of your fridge sharer.

Pulled pork for lunch.

I made a very silly mistake on Thursday. I assumed that my cold could be beaten by a handerchief.

The less said about that, the better.

After my cold got me kicked out of a meeting (I am not kidding even the tiniest little bit), I took at alternate route to the coffee shop and passed the engineering building. I don’t know what happens in this building, but I’m assuming it’s haunted.

I mean, look at it.

When I got home, Crockett was already heating the remainder of the pork and mandolining the sweet potatoes.

I know I said he wasn’t allowed to touch the mandoline, but he snuck in while I wasn’t paying attention.

Crockett repeated his Dagwood…

And I repeated my breadless stack o’ goodness.

What. We know what we like.

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