My husband came home from work to our kids swimming with their cousins in the front yard. That's right, you read correctly. We have a fifteen foot pop-up pool in our courtyard. My brother was waiting for him with beer.
"Do you have enough beer?" I asked my brother as he walked up the side stairs entering the courtyard.
"Well, I figured you never let Orlando buy any, so I brought him some," he teased.
"Yeah, sorry. It's a vitamin water household," I told him. "No room in the fridge for beer."
Seems the word has traveled around the neighborhood.
Poor Orlando...his wife never buys beer.
My husband disappears to get the mail from our box up the street, then returns an hour later with a beer can, courtesy of house number four. If he has to run to the bank, he returns with a cocktail, courtesy of house number six.
"I don't know what's taking Orlando so long?" I complained to my friend over the phone, who lives around the corner. "He only went to buy dog food."
"He's not at the store, he's with my husband," she laughs. "They're in the garage having a beer!"
Am I missing something here? Oh yeah, BEER!