Greg and I have a running joke.

Some weekend mornings, he goes to pick up McDonalds breakfast for the family. I’ll give him my order, only for him to return WITHOUT it. He always forgets. Always feels bad, but always forgets.

Last night, he called home to ask me if he could bring me anything because I’ve been sick. I asked for Gatorade, lemon-lime flavor.

A few minutes later, I called him as he was walking in to the store. “We need a gallon of milk,” I told him. He said he’d get it and be right home.

I was lying on the couch when Greg walked in with the milk. “Where’s the Gatorade,” I asked? Greg’s response…

“Aaaagghh…I forgot it.”

Isn’t that the REASON he even went to the store in the first place?