Two words… Pizza Delivery…
Brought to the door by a friendly man waiting to take our money – that’s another reason why I love my husband.
Silly you say? Not when you’ve been stressing over what the family is going to eat that night and your husband has been at work all day (again) and you have to sing at church that evening and you car is out of gas and it’s cold outside and you haven’t been to the grocery store for non-holiday related food in a while. (Sorry for the horrible run-on sentence but sometimes it just has to be done, for effect of course.)
We rarely order pizza out anymore (we just eat the frozen section kind) but last night my husband had the foresight to know that that was exactly what had to be done – call Papa John’s and tell them to bring us the goods. God bless him. He’s a keeper, I tell ‘ya.
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