I just got a chunk of waffle tossed into my hair.
Since this is not breakfast-time, I know you are surprised. I was.
It was unearthed in Chewies Dog-bed (which really is a cat-bed. Even though he’s a dog). Chewie has this tendency to bury things he won’t eat in his little bed. I just found it a few minutes ago and thought it was funny. Ever since M became ‘Mr Mum’ I have found a lot of random bits of food all over the house.
Now part of it might be that we are doing a lot of ‘wheat-free’ cooking. Tapioca bread and wheat-free waffles. Tapioca bread does not toast well. If you make it golden brown, that actually means ‘brick’ in the language of toast.
And M is such a good Mr Mum. He toasts things to perfection, a lovely golden-brown. Which might make for deliciousness in our wheat-filled world. But actually means ‘cobble my sidewalk with your toast pieces’ in the land of the wheat-free.
I have accidentally stepped on it. I know. It is as hard as a m-f’er.
Apparently Chewie is not interested in our new wheat-free life-style. In the evenings, when I am home and M is off at his summer evening job of serving…. I find little morsels in corners of all the rooms. Waffles in the living-room. Biscuits in the bedroom. Toast everywhere. Chewie hates toast. Well, wheat-free toast anyways.
At least, this wheat -free toast. I think he would have liked what V was eating in Canada. We needed a dog in Canada to clean up the mess V made.
So, unbeknowest to V, wheat-free sucks. It sucks as even the dog won’t eat it.
And then, Chewie did something that surprised me. In retrospect though, it shouldn’t have.
He ate the waffle. So I guess, in hindsight, it wasn’t that bad. I just wish M hadn’t thrown it at me first……