For some reason, we have ruffled potato chips in our cupboard. Andrew must have bought them, because I usually don't buy chips thanks to my complete lack of self control. But they are here, so I am eating them. Today I had a sandwich, chips and a pickle spear.
Eating a potato chip that has been sitting next to a pickle and has absorbed just a tiny bit of pickle juice is akin to salt nirvana.
I'm thirsty.
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