Brats

Every time we go to the store, Mark asks me if we need paper towels, napkins, or toilet paper. At the time of our last shopping trip we needed none of those things. And if I had looked at the supply of toilet paper on Saturday morning I would still have said, "Nah, we're fine."

Lately Mark has been making me do a lot of the cooking. I guess he gets tired of being the chef all the time. Problem is, I hate to cook. I say that if it takes longer to cook the food than it takes to eat it, it isn't worth it. That's how I stayed so skinny before I met Mark. Anyway, Friday night I made bratwursts with grilled onions and peppers, along with French fries. Still too complicated for my liking, but we sat down and had brats and fries for dinner. I think something went wrong. Early Saturday Mark started having gas problems. By dinner time I joined in the trumpeting. All night long I heard Mark get out of bed and run to the bathroom. I thought it was so amusing, until Sunday afternoon when it hit me too. Now we're both on the Imodium, and I think we have things under control. However, it is amazing how fast you can go through five rolls of toilet paper. I'm going to say that it is kind of Mark's fault. He did insist that I start cooking.