It's not like I hadn't warned him

When I got home carrying the first few bags in, I found Hubby had closed himself in the bathroom. "You gotta come out sooner or later," I yelled pounding on the door.

I went back outside to bring in a few more, pounding on the bathroom door before I went back to the car. "I'm not coming out, ever!" he yelled.

I caught him trying to escape down the hallway not long after I brought the last bags in. I'm sure he'd peeked out from behind the door and saw what awaited him.

"HA!" I said, handing him the new box of freezer-strength bags I'd bought, just to make sure he didn't run out.

Last week going through the grocery store ads I'd said, "Winn Dixie has one heck of a meat sale this week. You know what that means doncha."

Hubby blanched.

I'm feeding the freezer, and he's gotta wrap it all.

(Ground beef, 1/4 pound hamburger patties, sirloin steaks, London broil, roasts, pork chops . . . )