The Man Who Lives In My House thoughtfully got a pound of frozen hamburger out to thaw....but then we looked at the garden and saw the bushels of tomatoes and basil that had gone crazy while we were away (It finally got hot!) and decided to make a huge caprese salad instead.
I thought I put the hamburger in the fridge, but last night I could not locate it. Not in the fridge, not in the freezer....not in the garage or the car....it would reveal it's location by smell, by now...and nothing smells except:
He looks guilty, doesn't he?
So I think I know what happened to the hamburger.
I've asked this before, and the question remains: Why DO I like dogs?