Exercise in futility

While Pork Chop was out of town last weekend, I seized the opportunity to get caught up on a few things around the house, including a mountain of laundry. I even laundered all the bed linens. After his return, I was all snuggled up in the laundry-fresh duvet, trying to get to sleep while Pork Chop watched something on the Discovery Channel. At some point, he reached over and in the dim glow from the TV I saw that he was offering me a piece of a crumbly chocolate bar he was eating. It appeared to be one of the European milk chocolates from Michelle's recent trip to London.

All well and good, but little bits of it were trailing all over the bedding. Pork Chop was just becoming aware of this himself, and started sifting through the bed linens, hunting for stray scraps of chocolate. I guess he found some, because as I was drifting off, I heard him say, "I can't believe how fast this stuff melts!" The next morning, I examined his side of the bed more carefully, and sure enough, there were tiny little flecks of melted chocolate all over the white duvet cover. I thought this went without saying, but it looks like I'm going to have to institute a hard and fast no-snacking-in-bed rule.