Life is meaningless without tickles and cupcakes.

This morning, my  dear husband informed me that I could not exit my neighborhood via the Rt 72 entrance. 

I nodded in his general direction and mumbled a 'yeah, why?' as I am generally not interested in the affairs of traffic.  Also, I may have been engrossed in something involving dog antics on the internet.  

You are just not allowed to exit the neighborhood that way if you go anywhere, he replied to my mumbling.  

Not allowed? My interest has been piqued.

What does that even mean?  Why wouldn't I be allowed?  I was hoping for some sort of explanation as I quickly googled 'how to booby trap a man cave'. 

You just aren't allowed. 

Hmm.  I never thought of using thumb tacks in such a  fashion.  Thank you, google. 

When I inquired about a possible accident or other road closing catastrophe, he again replied that I was not allowed to go that way.  He wasn't going to let me, for the good of our marriage. 

Sardines in the ceiling fan? Brilliant! Thank you again, google, you evil geniuses. 

My interest further piqued, I decided it might be an offer of either free puppies or free cupcakes (or both if my dreams were to come true).   Keys in hand and cupcake caddy at the ready, I proceeded to head for the door, a sudden spring in my step. 

My hand was on the doorknob when he stopped me and said it was neither free puppies or cupcakes.  

Fine.  Is it a yard sale, with puppies and cupcakes?  I'm willing to pay at this point.  But only yard sale prices.  I'll settle for budget puppies, for the good of our marriage.  Budget cupcakes?  A taste test will be required.   

He put his head in his hands, sighed and said that it was not such a yard sale. 

I had now lost that spring in my step.  The cupcake caddy was becoming heavy and cumbersome without the hope of glorious cupcakes to fill it's emptiness.   I sadly put away my keys as my husband took my place at the computer and began googling 'how to discreetly medicate your spouse'. 

I started to walk away but then turned back to my husband, now engrossed in his own googling.  So, if it doesn't involve puppies or cupcakes, why am I not allowed to exit the neighborhood via Rt 72? 

Looking up, he replied that it was free kittens. 

Smiling, I reached for my keys again.  In my head, I was already naming my two snuggly feline companions...Tickles and Cupcake (duh). 

Then, I remembered my husband's severe cat allergy.  Jerk.  Dejected, I again started to walk away. 

Hey, he yelled out.  Why don't I make dinner tonight? 

I'm totally not falling for it.  I know all about the evil genius of google.

That's so sweet, baby.  I was thinking I would pick up a pizza.  I need to go to Staples anyway.  We're out of thumb tacks.