The past few weeks the local papers have been full of "scandal" - accusations of sexual harassment and misuse of credit cards (not by the same guy) have been paraded across the newspaper headlines, talked about ad nauseum by the radio pundits and pontificated upon by tv journos.
This tendancy for presumption of guilt until a fair trial spilled over into the Hamwich household this morning when I went to make my Sunday morning treat of two soft boiled eggs with a slice of toast. I made another cup of coffee, put the water on to boil for the eggs and reached for the bread I had left on the counter.
No bread.
I glared at the dogs accusingly, and searched around the kitchen some more.
Bread still m.i.a.
I opened the pantry (nope), the refrigerator (nada), looked in the oven (hey, you never know), spied and rescued one of my slippers from the back garden (gee, I wonder how this got here) and searched for telltale signs of shredded plastic and doggy indulgence, the entire time muttering at the dogs "WTF did you do with it?". Finally I gave up and grudgingly, made my everyday breakfast of porridge. The Mr finally decided to heave himself out of bed at a leisurely 8:30 am and wander into the kitchen. I asked him - have you done something with the bread? His response? "I was a bit peckish last night, so I et it"
Sorry dogs. Hope the politicians are as lucky as you, but I don't hold out much hope.
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