Recently, Husband came home from the store with this:
My first thought, in my chemo-weakened state, was that he was breaking up with me. That maybe this was a Dear John letter in cereal form, fortified with extra vitamins and minerals to help me cope with the news. Things have been getting a little too weird around here and maybe we should just be friends. “Good” friends. But only friends.
Then I looked more closely at the box.
Just look at her face. They’re clearly not just friends. Not even “good” friends. They’re most definitely friendly enough to be enjoying breakfast together the next morning, and most likely breakfast in the vicinity of an event that nearly BLEW THEIR MINDS. It wasn’t the cereal that blew their minds. That I can tell you with certainty.
But what sort of event would that be? Perhaps the insanely happy expression on their faces has something to do with second chances and unexpectedly finding new love in later life. (I’m guessing that they’re newly entangled because couples who’ve been married for 40 years do not wear that particular expression on their faces except for very special occasions. And breakfast is not one of them.) So it could be the love thing, but it’s not. Could it be the residual glow of unspeakable carnal pleasures that took place between two people who bring a combined 80 years of experience (at least) to the table (or wherever)? Tempting to assume, but, again, you would be wrong. It’s something much, much more than that. Something that can only be had after waiting a really, really long time for something really, really big. And I think you know what I’m talking about.
Maybe simultaneous dumps.
That is the only explanation for the look on their faces.
“Good Friends” promises 50% fiber and my guess, based on the picture alone, is that it delivers. I really hope so. I’m still waiting. Many important friendships depend on it.