Never try to shop during Easter

Easter holidays are one way of finding out who the disorganised are...I should know, I'm one of them.
After running out of bread on Good Friday I got to the dairy to find someone slightly less disorganised than I standing there with the last two packets of buns...the bread, of course, being long gone.
There was only one thing left to do...yep...go bludge off friends. The first lot however were away, so I carried on to the second lot. They were more disorganised than I was.
He chopped up potatoes and fried them with butter and salt, while she made scones, so heavy on the flour you could have used them as ship anchors...the potatoes I have to say were delicious, the scones rather less so, although they did stay with me for quite some time.
The conversation, as always was pithy and peppered, as he attempted to put a windowsill into place immediately after she had judiciously swept up an important little peice of specially shaped wood and put it down the waste disposal.
We still dine out on the time he was painting the roof, and to keep his balance had tied one end of a rope around his waist, and the other end to the bumper of the car.
She of course decided to go to town.
The first he knew of this was when she dragged him screaming up one side of the roof.
He did manage to get himself untied while going down the other side, but not before he tumbled off the edge.
The guttering did however catch his new jersey in time to prevent him plummeting to the ground, and then slowly bent downwards as it lowered him serenely.
It did not however stop him flinging a tirade of obscenities towards his long disappeared spouse, and which he continued unabated for a good week or more.
OR the time they again ran out of bread, so he decided to cook some rice...he boiled the bejeezuz out of it, but it was still as hard as hell when he ate it...when she got home he complained long and bitter and loud, until she pointed out that it was grass seed he was eating.