It’s not a surprise when Amber flakes out on our yearly tradition of watching Hocus Pocus (we even have t-shirts) on Halloween, and I’m stuck holding the bag with a giant amount of marshmallow popcorn (with orange food coloring for the occasion), and too many packages of double-stuffed Golden Oreos with a carton of almond milk in the fridge because Max is lactose-intolerant.
I’ve got all this food, and Max is supposed to be coming over for supper since Amber flaked on us, but as usual, Max is running late.
I don’t know how many times this girl does her makeup (full glam every single time), and she still doesn’t know how long it takes her to get ready. It should drive me up the wall, but that’s the way she’s always been, and I honestly don’t have anywhere to be.
We had settled on sushi,
