The Man-Cub starts work at his summer job tomorrow, at 5:00 a.m. He spent the past couple of hours looking for his insulated lunch box after having forgotten where he put it at the end of last summer. In a surprising turn of events, it was Hugh who suggested that he look in the attic, where all of the rest of our coolers are stored, and, there it was.
That means that Hugh found a lost item.
This is unheard of in our household. I mean, it's an historical fact that Hugh is our resident loser. And, by loser, I don't mean loser, loser; I mean, he's a loser, in that he loses things. Lots of things. Everything, actually. If I had a dollar for every time he's misplaced an item and then blamed me for: A, hiding it, B., moving it, or C., "putting it away in the wrong spot", I would be a very, very wealthy woman.
So, this little turn of events is more than a bit perplexing; it's almost definitely the first sign of the impending apocalypse. Get your bunkers ready.
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