We had an emotional breakdown last night. It happened like this:

She-Who-Hates-To-Be-Named asked me to slice her some strawberries for her favorite dessert--straberries and whipped cream (heavy on the whipped cream.) I sliced, she sugared, and when they were ready, she hunked on a generous helping of whipped cream. He-Who-Laughs walked through the kitchen, observed her pile of whipped cream, scooped up half, and kept walking with the comment, "There's too much whipped cream on that."

World War ...
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