CHEATING ON MY WIFE

Doesn't get any better!

Most men who cheat on their wives do so with other women, not me, I use freshly made meatballs! I’ve written about my love of meatballs before on this blogue, and every now and then the need to steal one happens. http://delbloggolo.blogspot.com/search?q=meatballs

When my daughter comes home for a visit on a Sunday, she loves pasta, so that is what we eat. But the pasta is not complete for her unless she has meatballs too! The last time she was home I made a sauce with meat in it, but not meatballs, and Ellen was looking for the meatballs. 

This week TLW (The Little Woman) made sauce and then made meatballs separately to put into the sauce/gravy (who cares, really). They were sitting on the stove cooling off looking awfully good, and TLW was sitting too close in view as I passed the stove, so there was no way I could sneak one. Now I could just go over there and take one, even ask her for one, and she would say yes, go ahead, but it just isn’t any fun that way.

For years before I was married and able to reach the top of the table, I would swipe a meatball on dear old Mom, and 9 out of 10 times get away with it. It’s that 10^th time though, the wrath of an angry motherhood, the sharp tongued lecture about dishonesty and stealing, and of course the wooden spoon, all led to a sport-like atmosphere, as I continued to run the risk of being caught. An exposed plate of meatballs made my blood run, the thrill of taking a chance for a meatball powered my Sundays, the risk was worth the possibilities of getting caught.

May God forgive me!

Stealing meatballs is a mortal sin and I am going to Hell, (Commandment 8, sec. a, line 23: Meatballs) but what the Hell, there ain’t no meatballs in Heaven, so it’s now or never! You can sit down under normal circumstances and eat a meatball, but you might think of something else, but with meatballs, you savor the taste, enjoy the planning of how to procure one, and it is all meatball from the smell to the taste to the final bite!

There are few things in life I need. I can buy most of what I really want or need, and there is no joy in that, but covet another man’s meatball, well now that is different.