Sticky Situation or How The Vat Came Into The House

I’m not sure how it happened, but somehow a rather large vat of peanut butter moved into the house.  It took up residence on the counter next to the mixer.  For all I know, the mixer may have invited the peanut butter to move in.  I wasn’t home at the time the peanut butter moved in.  I just noticed it after being gone most of the day.

I’m pretty sure when we finally got through the peanut butter we can use the vat for a small poor or perhaps make some wine in it.  If you like gallons of wine made in a plastic peanut butter vat that is.

While I’d like to think my mixer decided to get a life complete with some romance (let’s face it if the thing is waiting for adventures provided by moi, it is in for a long wait), the more logical and less fun explanation for the peanut butter’s appearance comes down to Beloved.  It’s probably part of his weight lifting routine.  Pick up heavy objects, carry them a distance and then deposit on the nearest surface.

You see he went shopping.  On his own.  For deals.  This normally translates into some ancient scrying with a calculator and the sacrifice of burnt toast.  I think.  I’m not allowed to know what goes on with some things.  He claims it’s just a “boys gathering”, but I know better.  It’s a secret society that subscribes to magical logic bound to drive a woman mildly insane.  No, really.  It’s true.  If I had brought home a vat half the size of the one currently making my counter sag, Beloved would have asked how many armies were we supporting.  But he claims this was too good a deal to pass up and besides its good peanut butter.  Like somehow these make it okay.

While I’m sure the mixer may get some action with the peanut butter, I can’t say she is in love with the peanut butter.  For all I know she may detest the stuff or resent not just having to share space with the big guy, but having to tolerate him as well.  We haven’t talked yet.  Mostly because Beloved no-bake peanut butter snack balls that are a bit on the stick-to-the-roof-of-mouth side so I haven’t said much other then ask for milk.

I will keep you posted on the whole progress between the two, oh and if you don’t hear from me I may have fallen into the vat of peanut butter and, well, you know, gotten stuck.

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