I slice off a watermelon round and put the rest into our second fridge in the garage. Coming back in, as the door closes behind me --my husband (who is home! instead of working!) is suddenly standing over my plate with a long bread knife in his hand. He has it stuck in like a tent stake, poised to cut. I chuckle. "Is this alright?" "Yeah."This looks like we're playing watermelon Jenga. Or something.
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