It was just before dinner and I was plating up the quiche and asparagus while The Swede checked a couple of work emails at the kitchen table. All of a sudden he said, "Quick, hide! Someone's coming to our front door to sell flowers. No, wait! He already saw us! You go to the door, I'll get the cat so he doesn't run out!" Guys, there is no reason I should be the one to go to the door since he's the one who speaks Swedish fluently, am I right? But I did it because I have cajones like that, plus The Swede had already run and hid and the kid with the flowers had most definitely seen us, so I had no choice. THEN! I open the door to find a teenager selling tulips for his football team's trip to Italy and behind him, snacking on grass, is the cat. The Swede totally didn't hold up his end of the deal. Thankfully, the kid and I understood each other and I bought the obligatory flowers, but it was sheer panic there for a few seconds. The Swede so owes me one.
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