“As I entered the kitchen a haze of white flour permeated the air.
And through the haze I discerned a solitary figure in an apron. She shreiked, (
to her weary husband)
‘I need more unsalted butter!’ I pulled on my coat and deposited myself into the dark, foggy, misty evening.
Grumbling under my breath I said ‘This is my THIRD trip to the grocery store!’ I thought to myself, ‘What a guy will do for apple pie.’ When I arrived home the flour covered baker was sitting in dismay and said “I really think I should do this in the morning.” I turned away and sighed with relief.”