The case of the missing cheese.

P.I.C. have been KICKING ASS at married life. We menu plan. We grocery shop. I finagle him into doing some of my laundry before the situation gets TOO extreme. Last weekend, we had a similarly successful Sunday. We planned our menu, then went shopping. We negotiated the appropriate bun for our buffalo chicken sandwiches on our menu. (I refused to buy a pack of eight sesame seed buns and instead wanted to put them on a healthy multigrain sandwich slim. He insisted that sesame seed buns would hold up to the chicken and toppings better. We compromised by buying two sesame seed rolls from the bakery. NO WASTE IN OUR HOUSE.)

We were so smug 'til we got home and realized...the blue cheese is missing. SHOOT. How do you make healthy buffalo chicken sandwiches without the blue cheese? We carefully combed our long receipt and realized we were, in fact, charged for the missing blue cheese. Apparently, it disappeared at some point in between the store and the car, or the car and our house. Clearly, this was P.I.C.'s fault. He pulled a quick stop at a yellow light thereby spreading the contents of two grocery bags over the back seat. (He will tell you he is being prudent after a recent red light ticket. I will tell you he is TRYING to give me whiplash.)

It wasn't under the driver's seat. It wasn't under the passenger's seat. (I feel like I am channeling Rebecca Black here..."Which seat ate...my...blueeee cheeeeseeee?")

We didn't go back to the store because we had visited a grocery store outside of our neighborhood. Come on, gas is expensive. $4.75 a gallon? No way. We'd just finagle some blue cheese elsewhere, we figured.

Until today. P.I.C. gets into the car and lo and behold, the blue cheese has EMERGED. Here is how the text conversation went.

P.I.C.: "I found the blue cheese."

F.A.: "WHAT? In the car?" (Please note the undertone of smugness in this text, as he was the one who allegedly checked the car twice for the missing cheese.)

P.I.C.: "Yeah."

F.A.: "Do you think we can still eat it? I mean, it was pretty cool this week. I bet it's OK."*

P.I.C.: "Dunno, I opened it and smelled it. It's blue cheese, it stinks. I don't know."

F.A.: "Let's just eat it. I'm sure it's fine."

P.I.C.: "I'm gonna buy new cheese."

Sigh. He has no idea what it's like to live on the edge does he?

* I am the known guinea pig in our household for how long we can eat things past their expiration date. The rule is, if it passes my smell test, it's fine. Yeah, it's gross, I know. But my nose has not failed me yet. Stomach of steel, right here!