We keep a list attached to the refridgerator door with a magnetic pen beside it. Everytime we run out of something--cheerios, toothpaste, pickled onions, etc. it must be WRITTEN ON THE LIST. It is part of an overall complex system of household management. I grocery shop once a week and I rely on The List to keep the cupboards stocked.
WOE unto thee who takes that last of any item and does not write it on The List. The next seven days will sound like this:
"This would be a beautiful day...IF WE HAD ANY APPLESAUCE."
"You wanna know why she's crying? I'll tell you why she's crying. Your daughter wants APPLESAUCE."
"We were discussing APPLESAUCE, not PMS. Don't try to change the subject."
"I would have cooked tonight, but the recipe called for APPLESAUCE."
"I realize it is the 9th inning, but you need to go to the store RIGHT NOW for applesauce and I am not kidding. Yeah well, maybe you should have thought about the two seconds it takes to write the word applesauce on The List"
(Note to Readers: I Know! It's a wonder he stays with me.)
So today I went to reach for The List to go shopping--and found The List WAS MISSING.
Someone had removed the entire thing from the door of the refridgerator--a crime that would surely mean death, divorce, or at the very least no sex for several weeks.
(Note to Readers: I Know! He really is a great guy to put up with it!)
So I tore through the house cursing a blue streak in my mind. When I do this, I resemble Muttley the dog on Wacky Racers--the one that was always muttering "smukumrackumshmakumsuchum."
(Note to Readers: My memory is not what it was. If you remember this show with Penelope Pittstop, please post in comments)
FINALLY, I locate The List in Jesse's room, on his desk.
Underneath "Garbage Bags" he has written
I LuvE MoMmy.
Which means there is enough sugar in this house to last for a long, long time.