Confessions

We were cleaning out the fridge and tossed some leftover hamburgers from over a week ago.
"The hot dogs got eaten," Dan commented.
"Yeah, I ate two while you were gone." I said. "Cold. I really like cold hot dogs."

His look said he wished he didn't know that about me.

But the truth is, as a kid, we never got hot dogs. So when I'd babysit at someone else's house and they said, "help yourself to whatever's in the fridge" (or they didn't say that, but I did anyway), I'd always go for a hot dog. And eat it cold. And pull that weird outer skin off and eat that first.

And while I'm making confessions, Michelle and I used to eat our scabs too.