So I came home at lunch with a sack of potatoes for my roast later on. I had them in a fabric grocery sack (because we don’t get any freaking grocery bags when you shop in San Jose…ok little bitter moment there….) and placed them on the counter about 2 feet back from the edge. Apparently that wasn’t far enough back because when I got home later in the afternoon, I walked into the kitchen to find the sack on the floor, the plastic bag in the living room, and potatoes scattered about the floor in various stages of mutilation. Chewbacca was at it again. So here’s Murphy looking somewhat guilty. Murphy, you are absolutely unbelievable. How can I use those potatoes now with your dog breath all over them?