My first thought upon entering the house with the groceries in hand this afternoon was, "why does it smell so... vegetal? Vegetabullish? Veggish? Um..?"
Oh. That's why.
Apparently our Great Pyrenees (who is the only one who could be blamed for these Shenanigans as The Bos was snug in his kennel, though he had stealthily smuggled in a pink crayon, so he is also on the Naughty List as he was caught with wax shards and pink front paws) likes potatoes. And Dada's expired vitamins which he hadn't been taking anyway, so no major loss there. And desperately wanted to get into the melatonin but was thwarted by the childproof lid.
She also ate close to half of my bag of spice cookies. You know, the kind they make Biscoff and cookie butter out of. The delightfully crispy, not-too-sweet, perfect with coffee or tea or straight out of the bag kind. THOSE COOKIES. THOSE WONDERFUL COOKIES. She ate them. All.
Has anyone figured out how to create force fields yet? I really, really need one in our kitchen. Could you put a bug in Santa's ear for me, please?
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