This used to really aggravate her, especially as she had often slaved over a hot stove for hours to prepare him a lovely meal, and she knew that he was going do ruin his appetite.
One evening, after he had gone through his routine of hunting through the fridge for something to snack on for the third time in as many minutes, Margaret snapped and yelled at him, “Nothing’s any different than it was a minute ago. you know!”
“I know that,” he assured her. “It’s just that this time I’ve lowered my standards.”
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