I have a love-hate relationship with McDonald’s fries. I hate the fact that they are so bad for you because I love them sooooo much.
From halfway down the block I see the red paper container but it’s my husband who pulls over unprompted to retrieve the trash. I'm sorry to report that my mind didn’t immediately go to “We should pick it up” but instead “Humm, I could eat some fries.”
I blame the addicting combination of grease and salt for my moment of confusion.
In that split second of French fry frenzy, my husband knew what to do. Isn’t the best definition of a spouse one that fills in the blanks? One that knows what you need before you verbalize it to the world, even if it’s only a picking up some trash on the side of the road to check off our family’s daily random act of kindness?
What teamwork! He’s the ying to my yang! We should celebrate!
With some fries.