On Tuesday I baby-sat longer than usual for my friend Wendy's daughter and as a thank you she sent me home with some peanut butter brownies.

Because of this week's much heavier than usual work load (for which I am eternally grateful), I've kind of let the housekeeping go.  I think the last time I wiped down our kitchen table was…last Friday? Maybe Saturday morning? And since then, many many things have passed over it's surface–clothes, containers, DVDs, shoes, cell phones, mail, you get the idea. The cat has even taken quite a few naps on it.  We haven't, however, done much meal eating while sitting at it (though it has been used as a resting place for sandwiches and plates containing food).

Last night I sat down at the kitchen table to eat some one of the brownies that Wendy sent home with me.  I'd been keeping them in the refrigerator to keep the peanut butter icing from sliding off and they'd become a tiny bit crumbly.  I? Cannot let any part of a brownie go to waste.  So, after finishing the brownie, I brushed my hand across the table to get the brownie crumbs, tossed them in my mouth and said…

"Wow. Okay, that wasn't from a peanut butter brownie… I really hope that was actually food."

Don't you so want to come over to my house right now?