I don't know where that came from, I guess I'm still bitter...
I've been looking all day for my darned butcher paper, right? I'm stressed, I'm letting it stress me, it's only butcher paper! I try to use different paper, it just isnt working for me. Finally I collapse on my bed, defeated.
My husband walks in "uh, whats wrong with you?"
"I CAN'T FIND MY BUTCHER PAPER!" I blubber back at him.
He walks over to my bedside table.... "um honey..." and he gestures to my table about 6 inches from my face... It would have BIT me!
I don't know, he thinks its funny I can never find stuff, it's staring me right in the face! What is wrong with me!?
I can tell he's trying not to laugh, "Dont make fun of me!! I WAS ALWAYS TERRIBLE AT WHERES WALDO!!!" :(