I thought you loved me! Why, oh why, did you leave that opened bag of potato chips here?

I can’t give it to the children…it is much too unhealthy for them.

And Bill doesn’t like barbecue flavor.

It is entirely up to me to eat them. All of them. Before morning. Because that no-yummy-food program was working really well until you showed up and lead me into temptation, and I’m going straight back to it. Tomorrow. When these chips are gone.

Have a safe flight to Alaska, and be sure to call me crying about housing like you always do. And get me your address as soon as you can, so I can mail you five dozen of my Crinkled Molasses Cookies. Your hips won’t mind a bit.

BFF.
Peace. Out.