Desperately needed to go grocery shopping last week. A couple of weeks of just getting what was essential will eventually empty the pantry, so I toddled off to the shops to restock.
Just had enough cloth bags to carry the piles of stuff from Bi-Lo, and spent a small fortune at the butcher to restock the freezer as well.
Was not terribly happy upon returning to the car to find myself stymied by my Beloved. The boot* was pretty full of husband-junk, namely a huge blue tarp and a shovel. So I had to load the groceries into the back seat.
And at this point I began to wonder what it was my Beloved had been doing that required a blue tarp and a shovel.
Now, maybe I've been watching too much TV while I've been recuperating, but the only activity I could think of was burying a body.
I don't think my Beloved is one of the types of blokes who goes around disposing of dead bodies, but they do say the wife is the last to know. There was always that time not long after we were married when the police rang up asking if my Beloved (who has a fairly common series of names) had ever lived in Mackay.
But the chances that I'm off to chat to the police about this?
... Approximately None - because I might be the next one wrapped up in the blue tarp in the boot!
UPDATE: My Beloved informs me that he used the tarp to cover a trailer load of green waste that he took to the dump** last weekend, and the shovel was to scrape out the last of the grass clippings. Likely story!
*boot = trunk
** dump = waste transfer station at the local land fill