Say Cheese

Someone ate my cheese. They didn’t just move it, they ate it. All of it. And I’m not impressed. Because the thing is, I enjoy cheese. I like cheese. I could almost marry cheese. And someone ate the cheese I had set aside for myself. It wasn’t left out in the open. It wasn’t in an area where a free fall would occur. And yet, today when I went to get a piece of cheese, it was gone and in it’s place a typed note telling me my cheese was delicious.

Stuff like this can ruin a girl’s day. Or make an already less than awesome day even less than awesome. Especially if the girl has been reminding herself that no matter how horrible the day has been, there is a nice piece of cheese waiting for her at home. A piece of cheese waiting to be savored and worshipped.

And someone ate it. Not a portion of it. This person did not even leave me a sample, a small taste of what was consumed. Instead I was left with a note and a broken heart. And I don’t care if it is a sign that I’m not as flexible as I should be. I also don’t care what it means in terms of psychology that I’m upset over someone consuming my cheese. Nothing is going to fix this, expect to see the perpetrator caught and justice served. I’d settle for revenge though, nice and cold. With a piece of good cheese.

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