Is That A Snack? Gonna Share?

Every morning for nearly all our married life, my wife packs up my lunch for me. It usually consists of a fresh made sandwich, a soda, some cookies in a plastic sandwich bag, a few ounces of carrots in a sandwich bag, half an apple cut up in slices in a sandwich bag, some raisins or maybe grapes in a plastic sandwich bag and a snack pudding. I kind of graze all day, grabbing a plastic sandwich bag of something every couple of hours. I’m a lucky guy.

Donna recently changed purses, replacing an old one with something a little smaller. She used to keep all her make-up stuff in a see-thru case on one side of the old purse for easy access. Donna would take it out and “fix her face” as I drove us to work each day. The see-thru thing was a little too big for the new purse and not wanting to lose the ability to see what she had, Donna put the make-up stuff in a plastic sandwich bag. Now, each morning on the commute when she pulls out that sandwich bag, I, having been conditioned like Pavlov’s dog from years of snacking from those same types of bags, don’t think lipstick, but cookies, etc. I don’t have to see it, just hearing that faint rustling sound and I wonder if she will share some of that food with me.