Brian has a job described as 80% travel. One might think that that would give me at least three B-free weeks each month but no! No, he is home a whole damned lot and he is very helpful with cleaning and AWFULLY helpful with cooking. Last night he had made some chicken salad. I suspect that he used the same chicken that he'd described as smelling funny earlier in the week, but since I hadn't fallen ill I figured it was probably ok. Actually, the hungrier I am the less I think about these things and I was pretty hungry. We were waiting for Christopher to get home from lacrosse and we waited and waited and at last it was time to eat. I saw the chicken salad and I desired the chicken salad. Then B swooped over the table and plooped a giant clump of sliced olives on top of the beautiful chicken salad. Their foul juices trickled all over the lovely chicken salad and I almost burst into tears. This morning I fed the leftover stupid chicken salad avec olives to the dog. I noticed that she spit out the olives.