So tortured.

Sunday night, I made banana bread with cinnamon crumble topping. I started baking kind of late and the damn thing takes an hour to bake, 30 minute to rest in the pan, then it needs to get turned out onto a cooling rack to finish cooling. Anyway, it was already 11:30pm when I put it on the rack and my husband was already in bed.

Monday morning, I see that a huge chunk of the loaf has disappeared. I didn't think it was a big deal. Scott probably got hungry this morning.

As soon as he came home from work Monday evening, the following conversation occurs:

S: I hope it was ok that I took some banana bread.

M: Of course it's ok! Why wouldn't it be? I made it for you.

S: Well, I wasn't sure if you were going to bring it to work with you or who it was for. I just knew that I wanted some for breakfast. And then it was really good, so I wanted some more for my morning snack at work. I stood in front of the banana bread this morning and thought, "She might get mad at me for taking some, but she could get mad at me too if I didn't take any, so if she's going to get mad at me either way, I may as well get some banana bread out of it." So I took some.

M: That may have been the saddest story I've ever heard. I don't get mad at you all the time.

S: As sad as it sounds, I make all of my decisions based on what would make you mad the least. I'm tortured.

//end scene