I was throwing a little pity party here today over my general feebleness when the mail came.

In it was an unexpected box from Australia.

And in that box was the one thing guaranteed to make me mental with happiness.

Oh yes.

ONE OF MY THREE LOYAL READERS HAS GIFTED ME WITH TIM TAMS.

Yes, yes I AM simple-minded enough to be thrown into bliss, thrills and a couple of raptures by the appearance of foreign cookies on my doorstep.

Oh, be quiet.

Now the problem here is that the spousal unit was the one who picked up the mail and he was hovering about when I opened the box so now HE is aware of the existence of Tim Tams in this house.

It is becoming increasingly apparent that he expects me to SHARE my Tim Tams.

I think you can well imagine my horror, dismay and overwhelming incredulity over this shocking state of affairs.

I have been busily scanning our marriage vows to see if the words "sharing Tim Tams" were mentioned anywhere--I see for better and for worse, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, honour and cherish, forsaking all others, 'til death do us part--but nowhere do I see the words "sharing Tim Tams".

I think sharing my Tim Tams goes far above what any wife can be reasonably be expected to do.

Clearly, what is called for here is A Cunning Plan.

I have three so far, each beginning with the premise that I hide the Tim Tams and all evidence they ever came and say either:

a) "Tim Tams? I don't recall anyone mailing me Tim Tams."

b) "Tim Tams? You mean the ones that the rabid raccoons broke into the house for and carried off into the woods? Those Tim Tams?"

c) "Tim Tams? Um, I don't know how to tell you this, but I ate them all for lunch.

If he doesn't go for the first two, knowing me as he does, I'm SURE he'll buy the third cunning plan.

Now, to find a place to hide the Tim Tams ...

--Marn