image I like cheese. A lot. When I find a cheese I love, I pretty much stick to it until I can’t get it anymore.

My husband Dave went to the store the other night and I asked him to get my favorite cheese. He asked me what it was called.

“I don’t know. All I know is what the package looks like. Take my cell phone and call me from the cheese section and I’ll walk you through.”

He gets to the store and calls me as instructed from the wall of cheese.

I tell him “OK. Are you at the display that faces the donuts?”

“Yes.”

“OK. Now the cheese I want is a sharp cheddar, in a rectangular block and comes in an opaque wrapper and has a red or burgundy label.”

“I’m looking and it’s not here.”

“Look on the right side, maybe the second shelf from the top. Maybe the middle-ish shelf.”

“It’s not here. Orange?”

“No. Not an orange label. Red!”

“No. I mean orange cheese. Orange cheddar?”

“No! It’s a white cheddar with a red label. Keep looking.”

“It’s not here. I’m looking at all the cheeses now.”

“Well, it’s gotta be there. They never run out. There’s always like a dozen of them. It has to be there.”

“It’s not here, I swear. I’m done. I’m leaving the cheese.”

Now I’m sad and mad and cheeseless. I decide to go to the store myself the next night to find my cheese. I even bring my camera so I can take a picture of the cheese for future cheese reference.

I get there and see that the store people moved all the cheese over to the other side of the display, the side facing the deli. And they moved all the meats to the side where the cheese is supposed to be by the donuts. Why?

To make matters worse, my favorite cheese is not there. Who moved my cheese?!

I get home and immediately scream at Dave for not telling me that the cheese has moved to the other side of the display and if he’d only told me that the cheese was on the side facing the deli, where it never was before, then I could have told him that they moved the cheese and I would have known something was amiss and I would have halted the looking-for-the-cheese expedition the other night!!! And now I find out they DON’T EVEN HAVE IT!!!!

And then I took a breath, stopped spitting fire balls, my eyes returned to their normal size and all the angry snakes retreated back into my Medusa head.

The look on his face. Abject fear. Like he realized at that very moment what a beast of a woman he married and is it too late to get out now?

I’m sorry about the cheese, dear. I just like it a lot. You hereby have adequate grounds for divorce.

Stumble it!