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At breakfast this morning, I mentioned that we were out of milk.

"I thought I saw a half-gallon in the fridge," George said.

"I don’t think so, but check if you want," I said.

George got up, rummaged through the fridge, and triumphantly pulled out a milk carton. Whistling "Hail to the Chief," he set it before me.

"'Hail to the Chief'?" I asked.

"For finding the milk," he explained.

I folded my arms, and gave George a piercing look. "Let me get this straight: I wrote up the shopping list, drove to the grocery store, bought the milk, drove back home, put the groceries up, and you get 'Hail to the Chief' just for pulling the milk out of the fridge?"

"I think there’s a blog in there somewhere," George remarked.

Posted 05 May 2007 at 01:45 PM