This morning, after yelling at the children to close the blinds and watch more tv, my wife and went to the supermarket and stole stuff. Well, 'borrowed stuff' would be more accurate, but you understand complicitly all about that. We filled our matching sweat pants with canned goods -- raviolios, sliced peaches, brown gravy and the like.
Our couples therapist had encouraged us to actively listen to each other with more empathy, and it turned out we both yearned for more frequent acts of reckless vandalism. You think you know people. So, in loving tribute to our ongoing rejection of isolated solitude, we emptied the cans of their regulated contents, and replaced them with haggis, borscht, and cracker-jack prize tattoos. Then, we reentered the market and returned the cans to their original locations.
We celebrated our newfound togetherness with Starbucks and then went to a Tea Party rally where we renewed our vows and protested against the federal disbursement of funds to cripples and old people.
As Helen Keller reminded us all, "where are my keys?"
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