I’m really, REALLY glad that we no longer have a townhouse, or live in an apartment. Because, frankly, we’d be in deep doo doo if anyone casually overheard the conversations Wolf and I have.

I mentioned the ‘plotting the perfect murder’ conversation.

Tonight’s was about food.

Me: I need to get some non virgin coconut oil.

Wolf: *puzzled* Coconuts are virgins?

Me: Apparently.

Wolf: How do you know if a coconut has been…deflowered?

Me: It’s something to do with how it’s processed. I don’t freakin know. All I do know is that the stuff I bought is ‘virgin’ coconut oil, which retains some scent and taste of coconut, whereas apparently if I get the ‘non virgin’ kind, it doesn’t. Or not as much. Something like that.

Wolf: So you need to find hussy coconuts. Skanky coconuts. Slutty coconuts.

Me: Yep. And they have cashew milk now.

Wolf: That’ll be expensive. All that time spent finding the little cashew nipples, and then milking them.

me: *groans*

Wolf: Oh, c’mon, it needed to be said.

Me: No, no, it didn’t. Ever.

I can’t imagine what someone would think, if they didn’t know that Cubby, our youngest, seems to have an issue with milk. Probably envisioning us hosting a coconut/cashew orgy, no doubt.

*walks away humming, “I’ve Got A Lovely Bunch of Coconuts”*

Big ones, small ones, some the size of your head…