Megan is always right

I am thankful for a husband who cooks. And washes dishes. And vacuums. And folds the laundry. And grates the cheese for me. And kills spiders. And showers on a regular basis....

Uhh... I swear I do things?

Anyways, time for a Greg related story (have no fear, this is not a mushy story)

Greg and I were playing a game with his family over the break. Greg kept fiddling with my chapstick. After the game I couldn't find it. I NEEDED my chapstick. Greg got in bed while I started searching everywhere for it. Finally I told him to get his butt out of bed and help me look because he had it last and I was going though withdrawals and getting crusty crust lips. He was not very happy with me, and insisted that he had given me the chapstick. But he begrudgingly got out of bed and helped me look. We couldn't find it anywhere, and Greg still claimed that he had given it to me.

Flash forward to two days later when Greg puts on his jacket to go to his hockey game, and what does he find? My chapstick. Moral of the story? Megan is always right. (I may or may not have had him repeat that a few times...)