You are a goober.
I hate you
I love you
With you, I become Passive/Aggressive. It’s totally bizarre.
I regale you because you sooth my soul and make my mouth water. You fill me up…and are magical. I think about you all the time. Beware! I don’t admire your salty side.
I reject you because…well, because…I can’t eat just one honest teaspoon. And, YOU KNOW what I’m talkin’ about. My teaspoons are beyond heaping…they tend to become one (half jar) per sitting.
I don’t want you in my life.
But there you sit in the fridge and it’s obvious that you are here to stay in my house. We need a truce. As I put up my red flag, I say…”what now”?
How about this…every time you come out to play, I find our arbiters:
La tsp and De Knife and ask them to draw a line at how much I can eat.
It’s a Nobel Peace Prize winning type of idea, and I say we try it.
PS-My lean jeans send their regards and are breathing a huge sigh of relief at our amicable Treaty of Legume.