I was conscripted into helping with dinner. I didn't feel like it. I was told to make salad. Salad--not my area of expertise. I don't really like it, so I suck at it. Lettuce, tomatoes. Boring. The hooligans ate all the croutons because there were no chips.
Then I dug around in the fridge hoping hoping hoping YES!! Bottled dressing. We never use bottled dressing. The Man Who Lives In My House makes special delicious dressing with secret ingredients and shit. (The secret is mustard powder.)
"YES!" I said, "Bottled dressing! We are going to hell, Clearly! because I am going to use this stuff! it has multi syllabic chemicals, and probably sugar. Could it get any worse? I doubt it!"
"It could get worse," said the Man, stirring the pasta. "Donald Trump could be president. That would be much worse."
Well he does have a point.
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