[photo via fenchurch!]
Dear Lindt Chocolate,
I think my husband is becoming suspicious of our affair. How does the usually clueless one finally have one? It could be the bag of truffles hidden in my undies drawer; or maybe he discovered the truffles in the Green Giant Brussel Sprouts bag in the freezer; or maybe he's noticed my jeans hugging my ass more tightly.
Whatever it is, I think he's on to us! We must be more discreet in our liaisons. . . meet you on the back porch at midnight?
I adore you and don't know if I can ever live without you.