The French Bread is Best

I forgot about Thursday morning.

There it was, the ripped plastic on the kitchen floor. I looked on the counter. Yes, Don had left two loaves of bread there but one remained.

Don was in charge of the food for his camping trip. And, yet, he left it there on the counter for Ben. The soda bread was not Ben's preference.

It's Saturday morning and I'm ready to head up. Ben managed to break through the stair gate to get upstairs. He's parked under my desk.

Wish us well at the cottage.