I worked at home today and so enjoyed that rare weekday treat -- a civilised lunch with my lovely husband, instead of the usual frenzied and simultaneous typing and sandwich consumption that comprises my so-called 'lunch hour'. I blame my lack of familiarity with the format of a civilised lunch for the following.
As I wandered downstairs, I could see that Mr. Bsag had already started getting out bread, salad and other nice things from the fridge from which to construct our lunch. He called out to me from the garage as I came into the kitchen:
Mr. Bsag: I've put some mealworms out.
Me (opening mouth before putting brain into gear): What, for lunch?
Mealworms before cocktail hour? It's just not done, you know. No, that would be lunch for the birds.