Say cheese

We went RPGing last night and carefully selecting one of the vile concoctions He insists are cheese we scampered off. Now the cheese is a small round that can be popped in an oven until creamy... something one would far rather do in someone else's house... but in our climate we just left it out for half an hour. Carefully removing the wrappings one stood back to allow the aroma to pass. It smelt like something had died...

Meanwhile one ripped up bread, laid out alternatives for those who had a sense of smell and poured small aperitifs. Actually they were more to gird the loins for the cheese than accompaniments for the food. He gently smeared some on a piece of bread and bit into it. Oh that's good He groaned in ecstasy. His friend agreed. Against better judgement one had a small sample. Oh that is not good at all. She had a piece... and rushed to the fridge to find anything she could to remove the tasted from her mouth... mostly to no avail.

Looking at us rather like you would space aliens the gentlemen proceeded to devour the cheese. Well that is to say He had ownership of the knife and our friend wrestled for occasional possession... with only moderate success.

Which brings us to the slave's dilemma...

See He is lactose intolerant.  Now in a normal relationship you would just go... do you think that is a good idea? Actually one would probably just snatch the knife and say, no! In that clear authoritative voice you use on dogs when you want to be obeyed. You get occasional glimpses why one isn't in charge don't you?

All of this was laid against a very real reluctance to have that cheese back in our fridge. Honestly when He undid the container they are confined to, the smell wafted into the study... in spite of several layers of wrapping. Besides He was enjoying the stuff... though how you can like something that smells like an old, wet sock is quite beyond one. And one does so try not to nag... sometimes with varying levels of success...

And so the small wheel of vileness was consumed. And then His night was also consumed... along with all of his morning... by his body thanking him for its gift L

That was how one found one's self at the gym for the morning and with a 40 minute wait for the bus afterwards. Weekend public transport round here is as good as nonexistent. So when one finally crawled home it was early afternoon and He was up... and feeling rather bad about the aborted trip to the city that had been planned. In fact He offered a movie and maybe a little dinner instead.

This was how we found ourselves sitting at the waterfront watching a large cruiser leaving the Port of Brisbane for some exotic location, as we tackled the most enormous meals one has ever seen. They were so big we ended up bringing nearly half of them home with us.

The moral of this story?

Respect the stinky cheese. That smell is its warning label J