That is the only explanation possible.
Over the weekend, Mr. Jenny and I took a ride in his 1948 Jeepster to get some fresh picked sweet corn.
The wind was blowing through my hair.
The wind was blowing through Mr. Jenny's bald spot.
It was glorious.
We got to the farm stand and had a small debate over how much corn to buy. Mr. Jenny thought we should buy a dozen ears. I thought we should buy six. So we did.
When it came time for dinner, I was excited! Fresh corn the cob. Woo hoo!
I asked Mr. Jenny how many ears of corn he wanted with dinner. He said, "One!" I asked myself how many I wanted with dinner. I said, "Five!" and then I reigned myself in and cleaned two.
I had made barbecued beef in the crockpot along with some brown rice. I sliced up a tomato from the garden. It was delicious. The corn was perfect. So fresh it almost popped when you bit into it. Absolutely bliss on a cob.
But then...the bad thing happened.
Mr. Jenny ate his dinner much faster than I did, and when I was continuing to eat daintily, he scarfed down MY SECOND EAR OF CORN!
I heard your gasp. I know...right?
I'm not kidding either.
He stuck his weiner dog corn holders into MY EAR OF CORN...
And he ate it.
Give me a second here, okay.
I need to compose myself.
I kind of got over it. Kind of.
I'm still bitter.
And to retaliate I ate one of the remaining three ears for lunch on Sunday.
And tonight I may or may not share the last two ears with him.
Oh, sure, I still love him...
What was the man thinking?