Second Helpings

Crunch Time

For as far back as I can remember my hubby has been munching his way through a packet of crisps EVERY single night of the week. It doesn't matter how much dinner he's eaten, what time he ate it or whether he's had earlier snacks I can guarantee that at a certain time of night, regardless of what he's supposedly watching on television he'll wander into the kitchen to fetch a packet of crisps.

I'm getting an obsession about it, cringing as soon as I spot the packet, gritting my teeth through the crunch, crunch, crunch and the predictable lifting of the packet to drink the dregs from the bottom. As he never goes out I'm convinced I shall have to endure this ritual for the rest of my days apart from when I'm out.

It's the little things in life that make it worthwhile and contra wise the little things that can drive us insane. Can continuous crisp crunching be grounds for divorce or even provocation for murder most horrid?

Perhaps I should consider it an opportunity to write a novel based around a life weary wife who is finally driven over the edge by her ever present, crisp crunching partner. After all, I've nothing much else to write about lately.