I love sauce. Like REALLY love it. I dip EVERYTHING. Sometimes what I eat depends entirely on the sauce. For instance, if husband says Wendy's or McDonald's? I think, "Hmmm....am I in the mood for honey mustard (Wendy's) or sweet n' sour (McDonald's)?"
When we go through the drive through, he always asks for extra sauce for me. I always do a sauce check too. I cannot eat it if they forget my sauce. If they forget it, husby knocks on the window, or if we have driven off, he goes back. A former friend of mine is the exact same way about her sauce. But she frequently said that her husband never will go back or knock on the window. He just makes her eat it sans sauce. I found it tragic.
I fell in love with my husband all over again last week when he got takeout for us on Friday night. I got sticky finger quesadillas and it came with this:
For all of this:
I don't THINK so! I was obviously crushed. I said, "Ohhh noooo!! Look what they did! What the hell is this?! That's only enough sauce for like one quesadilla! Boooo!"
Husband replied, "I know. That's why I checked then got you this," and pulled this out:
It's the little things that count.