Last night, I was feeling snacky and decided that I was going to eat my last pilfered Fiber One bar. This one was especially desirable because it was of the Dark Chocolate Almond variety and my mom only let's me have the chocolate chip. I've been hoarding it for weeks and was really looking forward to sinking my teeth into the chocolate covered morsel held together with light caramel and sprinkled with toasted almonds.
As I lay on the bed, I decided it was time to shut the house down. The kiddies had been tended to and were winding down themselves. So I shuffled to the kitchen, put all my dishes in the dishwasher, put up the leftovers, and wiped down all the primary surfaces. I practically skipped back to my room to find my snack was missing.
Appalled, I snarled at the dogs. I cursed them and told them that I hoped they got diarrhea. All I got in return were puzzled looks and a yawn.
Pretty sure I paced my tiny apartment four times looking everywhere. Cabinets. Counters. Table tops. Even the top layer of the trash can (I mean, I wanted this thing but not trash-digging want). Frustrated, I gave up and finished getting ready for the new day. I grabbed my keys out of my coat pocket and threw them in my purse. Right next to my Fiber One bar.
I know one of them hid it from me. It was probably Wilbur.